Unfaithful
by April Rane
Summary: She's never been his. Her heart belongs to someone else... EC pairing, rating has changed for SC and L. It's more to be on the safe side, though. FINISHED 90605
1. Prologue

_Okay, so I haven't actually written a full-out fan fiction in, like, forever. Also, if you go to my profile, you'll notice I'm mostly a one-shot girl and that this is my first time toying with _Phantom of the Opera_, so please forgive me if this sucks. It's Webber mixed with a splash of Leroux. Thanks! --April Rane--_

PROLOGUE—THE BEGINNING

"Masquerade. Paper faces on parade… Masquerade… Hide your face so the world… will never find you…"

The tears were streaming from his eyes, now. He was nearly choking as he looked up at Christine. Her eyes were soft and her face sorrowful. He had nothing else to lose.

"Christine, I love you."

She reached out, taking his hand. In it, she placed the ring that he had taken from her, before restoring it back to her left finger. Raoul's gift to her. She turned from him, eyes almost loving as she looked at him.

For several long moments, he did not move. Then he followed her to watch her go, one last time.

For a moment they stared at each other. Then…

"Say you'll share with me one love one lifetime…"

She was singing to the boy.

"Say the word and I will follow you…" Raoul de Chagney. Unworthy wretch, perfect gentleman.

"Share each day with me, each night, each morning…"

The words slipped unbidden from his lips. "You alone can make my soul take flight."

Picking up a fallen candle stick, he roared out, "It's over now, the music of the night!"

Then he smashed the nearest mirror. Then the next. And then…

The last mirror smashed to reveal the tunnel that was his way out. Glancing back one last time at his home, Erik dropped the candle stick, stepped through, and began his new life.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1—WANDERING CHILD**

Christine Daae hardly remembered the last few weeks. So much had happened… Her home had burned to the ground. The Phantom of the Opera had disappeared, eluding the best efforts of the Parisian police department's best efforts to find him. She hadn't spoken to anyone from the opera house, so she was not entirely sure of all the details of that night. Raoul had tried to shelter her, as best he could, from both the facts and the rumors that were flying about.

As such, she found herself in a mansion outside Paris, staying with Raoul and his family. As comfortable as the house was, she found herself somewhat disheartened. The old Comte and his wife were not unkind to her, but there had been a hint of something critical in the eyes of Raoul's mother when he had announced to them both his engagement to Christine.

It seemed that there was no one in the expansive house she could truly talk to. Raoul was often busy with his father, trying to clean up the mess of the opera. Raoul's brother, Phillipe, visited occasionally to visit his beautiful, if bitter, wife. Raoul's mother was often to be found in the parlor, working on needlepoint, which was of no interest to Christine. As such, she often found herself wandering the expansive grounds, lost in her own thoughts, longing for someone to be her confidant.

She also found herself with a new wardrobe. Never in her life had Christine had so many clothes. Evening gowns, riding dresses, beautiful and ornate nightdresses, afternoon dresses. Everything else a woman of society would wear and nothing like anything she had owned in the opera house. She had spent an entire afternoon trying on dresses, feeling like a child playing dress-up.

Today, she wore a simple blue dress as she wandered the grounds alone. Christine had never wandered out quite this far before, and soon found herself staring at a house she had never seen before.

While the de Chagney home was enormous, it was nothing to this place. It was very nearly a castle, enormous and built of stone, it seemed. Gardeners scuttled through the enormous front garden, and an ornate black carriage stood in the front drive.

Christine looked around frantically, realizing that she must have wandered onto the neighbor's property. She had begun to turn back toward the de Chagney home when she heard the pounding of hooves. She stopped and turned again to the enormous house only to find herself face to face with a black horse. She jumped back considerably, then heard a light chuckle of laughter from somewhere above her.

"He's big, but he won't hurt you," said a female voice from atop the horse. "You wouldn't hurt a fly, would you Ceaser?"

Christine peered up the woman. "Ceaser?" she asked.

The woman slid down to the ground. "The horse. He's my brother's—I'm just taking care of him while he's away."

As she reached up to stroke the horse, Christine took in her appearance. She was wearing an elaborate green riding dress that made beautifully complimented lovely eyes. Her hair was ash brown and tied back in a tight French braid. When she spoke, her voice carried authority. She was older than Christine, but by how much, Christine couldn't tell.

Looking back at Christine, the woman gave Christine an almost amused-looking once-over. "You look as if you've been for a walk."

Christine looked down at herself. Her dress was indeed covered in burs and a few smudges of dirt. Reaching up, she felt a leaf in her hair.

The woman laughed again. She had a wonderful laugh. "You also look as though you could use tea." She held out a hand. "Eva Dusek."

Christine took the extended hand. The woman had a good, firm handshake, and Christine found herself liking this woman. "Christine Daae. I live over at the de Chagney estate—I'm intended to the Viscomte de Chagney."

Christine though she saw a flicker of recognition in those green eyes, but it was gone so quickly that she decided she must have imagined it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Christine," Eva said, and she smiled. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you in for tea." She gestured for a boy from the stables. "Take Ceaser in for me, please," she said. "Then you can go home for the day."

The boy grinned and took the reigns from Eva. "Yes, viscountess."

Eva smiled and turned back to Christine. "Let's get inside. It looks like it could rain."

Christine looked up and realized that it did indeed look as if it could rain. "I should get back, then," she said.

"It'll start before you get back," said Eva, raising an eyebrow at Christine. "Come in for tea, then I'll have my man take you home."

Christine cast another look upward before she nodded. "Thank you," she said.

Eva led the way up the drive to the front door of the enormous house and opened the door. "Guests first," she said, sweeping out an arm for Christine.

Christine's first impression was that she had indeed entered a palace. Elaborate crimson tapestries hung around the hall, and a sweeping staircase led up to a balcony. A little boy came hurtling down the stairs toward them. He looked to be about four or five years old. "Mother!" he screamed, happily.

Eva smiled widely and squatted down to sweep the little boy into her arms. Scooping him up, she stood up again. "This little bundle of energy is my son, Jean." She smiled at the boy. "Jean, this is Christine."

The little boy became instantly shy and hid his face in his mother's neck. At this Eva laughed. "Aren't you going to say hello to our guest, Jean?"

Jean half peaked out at Christine and, very quietly, said, "Hello." Then he instantly hid again.

Eva shook her head with a small smile, and set the boy back down. "Go back to your studies, Jean."

Scampering back up the stairs, Jean peaked back at Christine and Eva once before disappearing back to where he came from.

Christine followed Eva off to the parlor, where a maid had already set up for afternoon tea. Eva looked around at her. "Corinne, could you bring another cup for our guest, please?"

The maid was back in a flash, and then she excused herself from the parlor with a small curtsey. Eva started pouring tea.

"It's so nice to see a fresh face!" she said, happily. "It's just Jean and I here. The Chagneys are our only neighbors, and I honestly can't say I'm too crazy about them. Don't get me wrong," she said quickly. "They're a pleasant family, but that's all. They're merely pleasant. Nothing more, nothing less."

Christine nodded in agreement. "It's nice to know I'm not the only one to have noticed." She took a sip of tea and looked up at Eva again. "I know I'm just a stranger and it's more than likely none of my business, but where is Jean's father?"

Eva's smile didn't leave her face, but became suddenly wistful and sad. "He died," she said, quietly. "We were engaged to be married, and he was killed in a freak accident. His horse threw him and he hit his head."

"I'm sorry," said Christine, quietly.

Eva shook her head. "It wasn't your fault," she said. "I only wish he could have seen Jean."

A sudden confusion came over Christine. "Engaged," she said slowly. "You… you weren't married?"

Christine half expected Eva to not answer, but look at her coldly. To her surprise, however, Eva's eyes suddenly filled with mischief. "I've never been married a day in my life."

A bubble of laughter arose in Christine's throat and escaped from her mouth before she could stop it. Eva began laughing, also, and the two of them nearly rolled in their chairs from laughter for several minutes. There were tears of mirth on Christine's face when her laughter finally subsided.

She smiled widely at Eva. "That felt so good," she said. "I haven't laughed since…"

She trailed off, remembering simpler days, when the Phantom had been her mysterious friend, the Angel of Music, before all hell had broken loose. The Angel. Her Angel…

She was jolted from her memories by Eva clearing her throat. Christine quickly smiled at Eva and said, "Well. It's been a long time since I could sit down and have a laugh. I'm just sorry it was at yours and Jean's expense."

Eva shook her head. "It's alright," she said. "My… ah, shall we say, inability to remain unadulterated, always drove my parents crazy. God bless their souls," she added as an afterthought.

"They're dead?"

"They died several years back," Eva said. "Right about now, they're probably nice and warm, roasting in hell."

"Hell?" Christine looked at Eva in shock. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Eva looked out the window at the rain that had begun to fall. "When I was a little girl, I always wondered why I was a viscountess instead of a countess. My parents would never tell me. When I was nine my father died, and my mother clammed up even more then whenever I would ask about my title. Then, about three years ago, I was sent for. She was dying, and wanted to tell me something." Eva stopped for a moment to draw a shaky breath. "I have a brother. He's older than me by a fair few years, and my mother and father abandoned him when he was a baby. He was—well, he wasn't what they'd expected from their perfect boy. I just found him two months ago. Jean loves him, and he adores Jean." She set down her empty tea cup and looked away from the window to Christine. "More tea?"

Christine shook her head. "I should go," she said. "They might start to worry about me."

Eva's sculpted eyebrows raised. "Might?"

Christine smiled sadly. "They might, yes." She sighed heavily.

Eva stood up. "I'll have Corinne call Damien with the carriage, and he'll take you home." She disappeared for several minutes, then returned, accompanied again by Jean, who was once again riding on her hip. "He's ready for you, Christine."

Standing up, Christine placed her cup on the table and walked out past Eva and Jean to the front hall. As she was heading out the door, she felt Eva rest a hand on her arm and she turned to look at the older woman.

"You're welcome to come back any time, Christine," she said gently. "You know, if you want to sit and talk about… well, anything."

Christine smiled again. "Thank you, Eva," she said. "I just may do that."

She walked out the door and through the rain to where the carriage man, Damien, stood waiting to open the door for her. He helped her in, then shut the door. Christine looked out the carriage window toward the door where Eva still stood holding Jean, who had looked up from his mother's shoulder to wave goodbye with her. Christine waved back, and then the carriage began to move, taking her back to the Chagney estate.

* * *

Eva Dusek leaned against the doorway of her son's bedroom. His sleeping visage just peaked over the edge of the blue comforter, and Eva smiled as he breathed in and out slowly. Soft footsteps behind her announced the presence of Corinne.

"Will you be needing anything before I retire, viscountess?" she asked.

Tearing her eyes from her son, Eva looked at her maid. "No," she said. "Not tonight. I will need you to fetch luggage for me in the next day or so, though. I'm going to need to start packing in the morning. I'd like to leave sometime in the next two weeks."

"Where are we going?" asked Corinne, confused.

Eva looked back at her son, then out toward the Chagney estate. "If memory serves me correctly, Vienna is lovely this time of year."

_a/n Has anyone else ever tried to type "Christine" over and over and typed "Christing" instead? Maybe it's just me. Oh, well. Leave me reviews—they make me horny._


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2—I REMEMBER**

Erik liked Vienna. It had been a long train ride that took him closer to Czechoslovakia than he would have liked, but it had been worth it. He had let himself into a small but attractive flat that was furnished in a manner that was not particularly masculine or feminine. Having been settled in the night before, he had paid a visit to the Vienna Opera to see _La Belle Hélène _by Offenbach. All the while he thought how wonderful Christine would be at the part of Helen—she had the soprano voice the role required, and had indeed started a war of sorts between the Chagney boy and himself.

Erik was jolted from his thoughts by a knock at the door. He glanced again at his pocket watch before rushing to open it. He was greeted by the copper face that he had missed for the last few years. He did his best to scowl when he said, "You're late, Nadir."

"Ah, so I am," he said, glancing at the clock on the mantel. "But you are not overly upset, it seems."

Erik chuckled. "So it seems," he said. The two men laughed at each other, then embraced. "It's good to see you, old friend."

Nadir's eyes crinkled in a smile. "As it is to see you." His eyes glinted with mischief, and Erik peered at him.

"What are you not telling me?" he asked suspiciously.

"Ah, well, there is good reason as to why I am late," Nadir said slyly. "Upon my arrival, I caught sight of a disheveled young woman with a small boy. It seemed that a bit of her luggage had been misplaced, and I offered to assist her in finding it. She then insisted that I accompany her to her intended destination."

Erik raised his eyebrows. "Did you now," he said.

"I most certainly did." The second the older man stepped aside, a small streak rushed at Erik and attatched itself to his knees.

"We came to visit!" the little boy said, happily. "Mama and I came to see you! Are you surprised? Are you? Are you happy to see us?"

The little boy was practically bouncing about the flat with excitement. Behind him, his mother stood, a suitcase in each hand, looking exhausted. "We're not in the way, are we?" she asked. "We can stay in a hotel, it that's—"

Erik took the suitcases from her, set them inside the door, and pulled her into a tight embrace. "It's wonderful to see you again, Eva," he whispered.

Eva pulled away slightly to peer into his face. "You look thin."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Erik turned to lift the suitcases and carry them to the second bedroom. Eva trailed behind him, going on about the fact that he had not been eating enough. She sounded more like a mother than a sister, honestly.

As he returned to the sitting room, he heard Nadir cuckle. Jean had pearched himself on the man's knee and was rambling on about the trip.

"He's never been on a train before," Eva said. "Jean, get down from there before you break Nadir's knee."

Nadir shook his head. "The boy is fine, Eva." He smiled up at her.

Erik did not miss the pink flush in his sister's cheeks when she smiled at Nadir. "If you say so." She turned to Erik. "Have you had dinner yet?"

He shook his head. "I haven't had time to cook yet. Would you care to join me?"

"I'd love to," she said, and she linked her arm through his. Glancing up at him again, she said, "You really do look thin. Is it stress? Have you been sleeping? Are you—"

Erik reached around to clap a hand over her mouth. "Stop." She glared at him, but nodded. "Now tell me of Paris."

As the two of them entered the kitchen, Erik noticed a change in Eva's demeanor. She looked over at him as she began peeling potatoes. "I have news," she said softly, glancing back at the sitting room to make sure Jean had not snuck in to listen, as was his habit.

"Really," Erik said, dryly. "What brings you to Vienna?"

"News." Eva reached for another potato and began to tell him the news she had brought him.

_It was becoming less unusual for Christine Daae to drop by in the afternoons for tea with Eva and Jean. Today was no exception. Eva had just readied the parlor with tea and sandwiches when the door chimes rang out. A moment later, Corinne appeared at the door with a smiling Christine. Eva smiled back and reached out a hand to greet her._

_"Corinne, will you fetch Jean for me?" Eva looked at her friend. "How are you today, dear?"_

_"The same as I am every day." Sitting in her usual seat, Christine spoke of the countess's efforts to encourage Christine to begin a new needlepoint with her, a new rumor about Phillipe and his new mistress, before speaking of Raoul's continued absence._

_"I haven't seen him in two weeks, Eva," she said. "I'm beginning to wonder if this wedding is ever going to occur."_

_Half wondering if that was not a bad idea, Christine was interrupted by Jean's entrance. No longer shy around Christine, the boy rushed to her, hopping into her lap and launching into a story involving the butler, the maid, and a mishap with a bird that had entered the house by mistake that morning._

_"Drink your tea, Jean," Eva said, pushing a cup at the boy. He hopped down to sit on the floor at Christine's feet and immediately took a sandwich from the table._

_A comfortable silence settled over the room as Eva leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a moment and taking pleasure in the momentary silence. Jean soon grew restless, however, and began tugging at his mother's skirt. She looked down at him._

_"When will I begin a new instrument, mother?" he asked._

_"When Monsieur_ _Maureau believes you are ready," Eva said, not bothering to open her eyes._

_"What instrument to you play, Jean?" Christine asked._

_"Violin," he said, darkly. "I want to learn the piano, though," he said enthusiastically. "Just like my uncle!"_

_At the mention of her brother, Eva's eyes flew open. Before Christine could ask another question Eva did not dare answer, she said, "I must tell you something, Christine."_

_Eyes narrowed slightly at the impending change of subject, Christine looked over the rim of her cup. "Yes?"_

_"I won't be home for the next week. You'll have to survive alone, I suppose," she added jokingly._

_"Where are you going?"_

_"__Vienna__." Eva took a sip of her tea and added, "There is some business there with my old flat that I need to take care of."_

_"But Mama, I thought we were going to __Vienna__ to see—"_

_"The opera!"__ It was the first thing that came out of Eva's mouth. "He wants to go to the __Vienna__ Opera." Before Jean had time to protest, Eva said, "You go back to your studies, darling. I'll see you at dinner."_

_He scowled, then turned to Christine. "Goodbye, Miss Christine." He raced over to hug her knees, and she dropped a kiss on the top of his head. He smiled brightly and skipped from the room._

_Eyes still looking after Jean, Christine asked, "What business is there for you in __Vienna__?"_

_"I'm thinking of selling my flat there, and I must meet with a potential buyer. Everything is arranged, but I do wish to meet the man taking my flat."_

_Christine nodded. "I can understand that. After all, it was your home before you came here."_

_Eva smiled before she changed the subject again. "When is Raoul due back?"_

_"Tomorrow," she said vaguely. "I almost wish he were staying another day."_

_Eva passed her a quizzical look over the rim of her tea cup._

_"He writes to me," Christine said. "But his letters lack… something."_

_"How can a letter lack something?" Eva asked. "You think there's something he's not telling you?"_

_"No." She was quiet as she thought for a moment. "They lack… passion." She set down her cup. "He tells me he loves me, but there's no…no…"_

_"Romance?"__ Eva asked._

_Christine nodded. "It's almost like the letters he wrote me when we were children. He gives me slow, loving kisses," she said, blushing. "I want a man to sweep me off my feet. Someone like--"_

_She stopped abruptly, turning ever pinker than before._

_"Someone like who?" Eva asked, hoping she sounded nonchalant._

_Her blush subsiding a bit, Christine's face became wistful, and her eyes slid slightly out of focus. "He was… the most amazing man I have ever met. A little crazy," she added, smiling slightly, "but amazing. He was a musical genius—he taught me everything I know."_

_Eva tried to keep her breath from catching in her throat as Christine began to tell of a mysterious phantom in the opera house that had fallen fatally in love with her._

_"I never even knew his name," she said, sadly. "I think he must be dead now. I saw an obituary in the newspaper for him, but I heard that the police are still looking for him. I don't know what to think. I don't know where he would have gone."_

Vienna_, thought Eva, silently. Out loud, she said, "Maybe he'll come back someday."_

_"And what?"__ Christine said, bitterly. "We'll live happily ever after? What about Raoul? If nothing else, he is still my friend. I couldn't…" She sighed. "I couldn't stay with him, Eva. What kind of life would I have led, running from the law? I could never have raised a family."_

_Eva said nothing. A few minutes later, Christine took her leave, and Eva rushed up to finish packing. Now was the time to leave._

Erik was silent as Eva finished her story. The smell of baking ham filled the air, and the potatoes were boiling on the stove. As Erik began setting the table, Eva noticed his hands shaking.

"Are you alright?"

His face was almost impossible to read through the black mask he wore, so Eva could not tell by looking what was running through his head. "Erik?"

"Let it go, Eva," he said softly, glancing toward the sitting room where Jean was beginning to fall asleep on Nadir's chest while the older man read a book to him. "I'm happy now with you and Jean and Nadir."

"But you don't _have_ Jean and Nadir and me. We're all in Paris, Erik, you should—"

"No." His voice was harsh as he glared over at her. "Leave it there, Eva. I have had enough pain to last a lifetime."

"Fine," she said. "Just remember, though. She still wants you."

For the rest of the time the two of them were preparing dinner, Erik did not utter a single word.


	4. Chapter 3

_a/n So here we are at Chapter 3 already! Anyone that knows my writing habits is sitting looking at the screen going, "Holy lord. She doesn't work this fast for _class_!" What can I say, I'm a phan at heart and at groin._

_Also, a brief explanation of what's going down so far (my bad for no warning about original characters). We all know Erik's parents (or at least his mother) were bitches, but I decided it would be even meaner if they were high society people. Since "Erik" is an old Czechoslovakian name, I'm going to say he's a Czechoslovakian (that's a pain to type, ya know?) and that his sister, Eva, should have a Czech… name as well. Eva is a funkified young lady who didn't like her parents and moved to France to marry her beloved and had extramarital sex, resulting in Jean (pronounced like the character in _Les Miserables_). Her fiancé left her his house and fortune, then her parents died, leaving her and Erik _their_ fortune. whew!_

_So, in a nutshell, Erik found out he is a Czechoslovakian count from his sister, who tracked him down after the death of their parents. Ironically, she's lived two miles from the Chagneys the entire time._

_E-mail me if you're still confuzzled, because it's all up in the old noggin. Sorry, again!_

_Also, big thanks to the homies that reviewed so far. I like you guys. I'm thinking about sending y'all e-cards._

**CHAPTER 3—THINK**** OF ME**

For the past week, Christine had spent most of her time in the house with Raoul and his family. He had finally returned home, bringing with him a melancholy air and no information for Christine. No matter how much she asked, he would tell her nothing of his trip into Paris. Over and over again she heard the same words.

"Nothing noteworthy happened, Christine. There's nothing you need to know."

One evening, she brought up the subject again, this time saying, "If nothing happened, then what kept you so long?"

"Tracking down the company," he said bluntly. "We had to find everyone to make sure no one was killed."

This was new news to Christine, and it surprised her somewhat. She had not known that the situation had been so serious. "_Was _anyone killed?"

"No one." Still no room for discussion.

Sighing and leaning back in her seat, Christine decided to change the subject. "When shall we have the wedding, Raoul?"

Glancing up from the book he was reading, Raoul looked at her. "What?"

"The wedding, Raoul!" she said, annoyed. "_Our_ wedding."

"Oh!" He set his book on the table next to him and smiled at her. "I'm sorry, darling, I wasn't paying attention." Raoul leaned back in his seat a bit, still smiling, and said, "When would you like it to be?"

"As soon as possible," she said. "I want to get back on the stage, after all."

At these words, Raoul became uncomfortable. "Christine," he said, quietly. "You… you can't go back to the stage."

Breathing had never been so difficult. "What?"

"It wouldn't be proper, you see, for a married woman of nobility to perform on the stage." He shook his head. "It is not the job of people of society to entertain. It is their job to _be_ entertained."

Somehow Christine found her feet and stood. "Raoul," she said desperately, "you can't take me from the stage. You found me because of the stage." She was crying now. "I _need_ to perform."

Raoul shook his head. "I'm sorry, darling."

If he said anything more, Christine did not hear it. She turned and fled from the room, from the house, from everything that depressed her. She ran all the way down the drive to the road, and then turned to race toward Eva Dusek's house.

As if running from a predator, Christine barreled up the lane. She pounded on the door, trying in vain to wipe the tears from her eyes.

A man Christine had never seen before opened the door and peered down at her with dark, liquid eyes. Christine stared up into his copper face, trying to breathe to tell him that she had to see Eva, but before the words would come out, the man rushed her inside and into the parlor.

"Sit, mademoiselle." His voice was deep and soothing. "What brings you here?"

"Eva," she choked out. "I need… I need to see Eva."

The man nodded, and briefly rested a hand on her arm. "Can I have anything sent in for you?"

"Eva!" she cried.

Nodding again, the copper-faced man rushed from the room. Christine had just managed to slow her tears when he returned less that a minute later with Eva trailing in his wake.

Her face registered shock when she saw Christine. "Christine! What's the matter?"

The tears that had only just stopped came back full-force, and Christine sobbed hysterically as she told Eva what had happened when she had mentioned returning to the stage to Raoul.

"And I'll never be able to sing again!" she finished. She was angry now, and her sobs had subsided somewhat. She looked over at the copper man, who was still standing in the doorway. "And who is he?"

Eva smiled at this and stood up. "This is Nadir," she said. "He's an old friend of my brother's."

Nadir reached out a hand for Christine's, and kissed the back genteelly. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mademoiselle Daae," he said, smoothly.

"Finally?" Christine asked, confused.

She did not miss the look that passed briefly between Nadir and Eva. "Eva has told me a great deal about you, Christine," Nadir said. "I have accompanied her home for protection."

At this, Eva let out an indignant huff. "As if I need it." She smiled at Christine. "He's protective. Now about your singing." She looked down at Christine. "You can't sing on stage anymore if you marry Raoul, that's true. It would insult him and his family. Not that I agree with it," she added darkly. "However, if you'll follow me, I have something to show you."

Opening the door, Eva led the way through the entrance hall and up the massive staircase, Christine and Nadir trailing behind. After several more minutes of walking, Eva stopped outside a door on the third floor. Smiling, she opened it, revealing a room the likes of which the Chagney house had none of.

It was a music room. Comfortable chairs were positioned on one side of an enormous grand piano. Violins, violas, and various other instruments, both antique and new, lined the walls, and an open case revealed a guitar. Opera scores and volumes of instrumental music lined shelves on the wall, and there were several knee-high stacks of sheet music in one corner of the room.

Christine stood in the doorway in awe for several moments before she was shepherded inside by a beaming Eva.

"You like it?"

Christine had to work to find her voice. "It's… beautiful." She turned full circle to take in everything from the golden drapes at the enormous window to every key on the majestic piano. "God in heaven, Eva, it's fantastic!"

Eva gestured toward the piano with one of her perfect hands. "Do you play?"

Christine shook her head. "I only sing."

This seemed to delight Eva, who rushed toward the wall and began searching for something. "What is your favorite song?" she asked excitedly.

Pondering for a moment, Christine's mind took her back to that first night that she had sung on stage, alone, without the chorus. Back to _Hannibal_. "There's a song," she said slowly, "from an opera called _Hannibal_. It's called 'Think of Me.' It's an aria—"

"_Hannibal_!" Eva tore a volume from the wall, rushing back to the piano and positioning herself on the bench. She flipped through the score for a moment before finding the song. She smiled brightly back at Christine. "You can't sing on stage, that's true. There's nothing to say you can't sing here."

For a moment, Christine did not grasp the meaning of the words coming from her friend's mouth. Then…

"You want me to sing?"

"I hear you make grown men weep, Christine," said Eva slyly. "I'll play, you'll sing, and together, we'll have Nadir on the floor crying like an infant in no time!"

Christine had forgotten all about Nadir, who had been standing in the doorway. At the mention of his name, the man stepped forward. "I may be forced to restrain myself, dear," he said, although to which of them, Christine was not sure. She decided he must have been speaking to Eva, as her cheeks flamed red at the pet name.

"If you say so," Eva said, obviously trying to bring her emotions under control. She looked toward Christine. "Ready?" She began to play.

After the short piano entrance, Christine began to sing.

"Think of me, think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye

Remember me once and a while

Please promise me you'll try

When you find that once again you long

To take your heart back and be free

If you ever find a moment

Spare a thought for me"

As Eva's fingers danced over the keys at the instrumental break, Christine tried to think back to when she had last sang. It had been that night, with _him_ there watching. Deep in the pit of her stomach, Christine felt a pang that she could not identify. As she began to sing again, her mind began to wander.

"We never said our love was evergreen

Or as unchanging as the sea

But if you can still remember

Stop and think of me

Think of all the things

We've shared and seen

Don't think about the way

Things might have been

Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned

Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind…"

She hoped that if he were alive, he was doing as such. It seemed, for some odd reason, that she had been thinking about him more lately than she used to. She quickly found herself singing to him, wherever he was, and not merely the words on the page.

"Think of the things we'll never do

There will never be a day

When I won't think of you."

No, there wouldn't. The tears that had stopped so long ago were flowing down her face again now.

"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade

They have their seasons—so do we

But please promise me…"

Her voice trailed off. She felt her knees weaken and she sank to the floor, not willing or able to finish the song. She was crying too hard now to see another look be exchanged between Eva and Nadir. She did not hear Eva tell Corinne to bring tea. All she knew—all she felt—was confusion.

"What's the matter with me?" she sobbed.

She felt a gentle hand rest on her back and she looked up into Eva's pretty face. "What's wrong, Christine?" she asked, her voice sounding worried.

"I can't…" Christine gasped for breath. "I can't stop thinking about _him_ all the time and I don't know why! He's dead, Eva! It said so in the newspaper. He's dead. He's dead."

It wasn't long before Christine lost count of how many times she choked the words out. After a moment, she felt strong arms lift her from the floor, felt herself being carried out of the sitting room and upstairs. She heard Eva telling Nadir to take Christine to the guest room.

"She's losing it," she heard Eva say softly. "She needs rest."

Christine sobbed into Nadir's chest. "I can't—" She was choking again. "I can't keep thinking about…"

"Hush, child," said Nadir gently, resting her on a bed. "Rest." He passed his hands over her face. "Rest, Christine. Sleep. Have no dreams."

And oddly enough, she quickly found herself doing just that.

* * *

It was late, and Eva had only just finished a letter to her brother when she felt an urge to sit down at the piano and begin to play. She pulled a volume of Beethoven's music from the wall and opened it to the middle, to a concerto in C minor. It was a song she knew quite well—it had been one of the first pieces of Beethoven's music that she had ever played. She closed her eyes and gently caressed the keys with her fingers. She did not open them she heard the music room door open, nor when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Does this music please you, Eva Dusek?" Nadir asked.

Eva smiled. "It's medicine for the soul," she said. "It soothes me."

She heard a slight clink and opened her eyes to see that he had set a snifter of brandy before her. "Would this soothe you, as well?"

"Only if you help me," she said. "I'm not going to stop playing this piano until I feel thoroughly calmed down. I need this, after today."

Nadir chuckled at this, letting go of her shoulder and reaching for her brandy. He raised it to her lips and she drank, never taking her eyes from the music in front of her. Its warmth spread instantly to her toes and she hummed with pleasure. "Thank you."

Nadir stepped around her to the seat at the side of the piano. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then…

"You do know why I came here, don't you, Eva?"

"Because Erik wanted you to," she said, closing her eyes again. "And because you're his friend."

There was a pause before he spoke again. "Partly." She suddenly felt hands on her shoulders and jumped slightly, pulling her hands from the piano and opening her eyes again. "But that is not the only reason I came."

Eva could feel her face flushing again. "Jean," she stuttered. "Jean adores you. That's why, right?"

Another chuckle announced Nadir's amusement. "Yet, I do admire Jean." He swept her long hair off to one side. "But he isn't the only one I adore."

_No_, Eva told herself firmly. _I can't fall in love again. I can't deal with this again._ "He isn't?" she breathed.

Lips gently touched down on her neck. "No," Nadir said simply.

Eva stood up quickly and walked across to the window seat. She looked out toward the woods that separated her estate from the Chagney place. Nadir slowly followed her. Before he could speak again, she said, "Erik would not approve."

"I've spoken to Erik." Nadir reached out and turned down the oil lamp on the piano so that moonlight filled the room. "He approves, I can assure you." He rested his hands on her shoulders again, this time kneading them gently.

A moan slipped from Eva's lips. "I can't…" She leaned back into his hands. They really were wonderful hands. "I have Jean to think about and—"

"I'm not telling you to abandon your son for me, Eva." He pushed her forward a bit so that he could sit behind her. "I would never ask you to do that. I'm asking you to give this a chance." His lips were brushing against her hair now. "There has been something between us, Eva, since you first came to me looking for your brother. You cannot deny it."

"I don't." She found she was actually smiling. "I know it's there. It's only…" She trailed off again.

"Only what?" That wonderfully rich voice again.

"It's been so long for me," Eva whispered. "I haven't loved anyone since Christophe. I don't even remember the last time I—" She stopped, embarrassed.

His lips were on her neck. "The last time you what, Eva?"

Her eyelids fluttered shut. "The last time I… knew a man."

"Do you wish to 'know' me?" Lips were trailing up to her jaw line now; his hands sliding down her arms, making her nightgown slip, exposing one perfect shoulder.

"Yes," she whispered yearningly. He turned her face to his and she opened her eyes again. "Yes."

She was lost again, lost in those amazing liquid eyes, and she saw nothing as he gently touched his lips to hers. She did not see the moonlight, or the trees. She saw nothing but him, and her eyes closed again.

And neither of them saw Christine quietly pull away from the doorway, smiling quietly as she headed back to her room and closing the music room door softly behind her.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4—THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA**

Over the next few weeks, Christine hurriedly prepared herself for her wedding. The event was to be small with only family and close friends in attendance. Christine begged Raoul to allow Madame and Meg Giry to come. After several days, he relented, and a letter was sent to them announcing the date. While sitting in the parlor with Raoul's mother one day, the woman raised a question that Christine had not ever given thought to.

"So, Christine," she said pleasantly, "who is your maid of honor going to be?"

For a moment, Christine was confused. Then she remembered—she _did _still need a maid of honor.

"I don't know," she said.

The countess raised her eyebrows. "You don't know?" When Christine shook her head, the countess launched into a list of names of appropriate women, none of whom Christine knew. After several minutes, a name came to Christine.

"What about Eva Dusek?" she asked.

The countess's brow crinkled delicately. "Who?"

"Viscountess Dusek. You know her; she lives on that massive estate just west of here." Christine paused for a moment as the countess thought. "I think I'd like to have Eva be my maid of honor. She has been my closest friend while I've been here. And she's nobility," she added.

The countess nodded. "Where did she come from, again?"

Christine thought for a moment. "Czechoslovakia, I believe."

"How did she come to be here?"

Answering this without revealing that Eva had never been married would be tricky. "I believe she came here with her husband." She would have to remember to tell Eva this.

It went over with the countess smoothly. "Is she religious?" the countess asked, looking as if she would refuse Christine if she said Eva weren't.

"Lutheran, I think." She had never seen a crucifix in the house, but she had been there for the prayers at dinner, which were spoken in what sounded to Christine like a mix of German and Latin.

Nodding again, the countess went back to her needlework. Suddenly she loo ked up, apparently confused about something. "Dusek?" she asked. "I thought his name was Desruiseau," she said.

Christine's head shot up from the book of poetry she was reading. "Was it?" she asked. Thinking quickly, she said, "I believe he died so soon after their marriage that she kept her maiden name."

"I never heard of their marriage." The countess was growing suspicious now.

"It was kept very quiet," Christine said, as calmly as she could. "They were a somewhat withdrawn couple."

She was saved from further explanation by Raoul entering the room. He kissed his mother on the cheek in greeting. "Mother, you wouldn't mind if I stole Christine, would you?"

Countess de Chagney smiled at her son. "The two of you should go for a walk while this weather is fair," she said. "The breeze it picking up, and it may rain later."

Raoul smiled at his mother and held out an arm for Christine. "Come along, darling."

Giving a quick curtsy to the countess, Christine took Raoul's proffered arm and smiled up at him as they took their leave. "You've been so busy these last few weeks," she said. "I've hardly seen you."

He smiled. "I know," he said, "and I apologize. Business with Phillipe again, you see."

Nodding, Christine allowed Raoul to open the door and lead her outside. "Where shall we walk to, my dear?"

A thought occurred to Christine. "You haven't met Eva yet," she said. "The two of you have never been home at the same time. She's going to be my maid of honor, you know." She paused, then said, "Or would she be a matron?"

"I suppose," he said. "Whatever happened to that man of hers?"

"He passed away several years ago." She grinned at Raoul. "How good are you at keeping secrets from your mother?"

A positively wicked grin crossed Raoul's face. "Excellent," he said.

"She and Christophe were never married," she said. She giggled. "They were engaged, but they never married."

Raoul raised his eyebrows. "I thought she had a son."

"She does." Her smile turned sad. "Jean is all she has left of Christophe."

Raoul nodded. "I see." He glanced toward the stables. "Shall we ride, then? I believe it's a long walk."

Thirty minutes later, Christine was bounding out of the carriage toward the enormous house. Behind her, Raoul let out a low whistle. "I'd forgotten how enormous this place is."

Christine grinned and took his hand. "Come on, you have to see Eva."

Before Christine even reached the door, however, it opened and Jean rushed out and threw himself at his knees. "Christine! You're here! Mama, Christine is here! Look, mother!"

Eva appeared in the doorway with Nadir. She smiled out at Christine. "Hello!" she called.

Scooping Jean up into her arms, Christine grinned happily at Raoul before rushing toward Eva. "Look who finally came home," she said happily, gesturing to Raoul. "Eva, this is Raoul. Raoul, this is the woman who has saved my sanity."

At this, Eva laughed that beautiful laugh and extended a hand to Raoul. "It's wonderful to finally meet you, Raoul," she said. "This is Nadir," she added.

Nadir extended a hand, but the smile on his face did not quite reach his eyes, which Christine found vaguely odd. "A pleasure, viscomte."

Raoul smiled back. "You as well, Nadir." He looked between Eva and Nadir. "You are married?" he asked.

"No," Eva said, taking a squirming Jean from Christine. "Nadir is my companion and protector. A lady cannot live without fear in this world, it seems." She shook her head, but did not elaborate. She smiled brightly at the couple. "Tea?"

An hour later, the women were still talking animatedly, and Raoul was beginning to look rather bored. Eva noticed this with a smile. "I can see that we are boring you, Raoul. If you wish to return home, we can take Christine along later."

Raoul looked toward Christine. "You don't mind, darling?"

"No," she said, and oddly, as little as she had seen her fiancé lately, this was true. "I don't mind one bit. I'll walk you to the door."

He smiled at her then turned to look at Eva. "It was wonderful to meet you, Eva. I'll see you at the wedding next week, then?"

Eva nodded and smiled. "It's been a pleasure, Raoul."

After kissing her hand, he turned to Nadir and extended his hand. "It was nice to meet you, Nadir. I trust you will be in attendance next week as well?"

Nadir smiled and nodded. "I must protect Eva from the evils of the world, after all," he said, smirking.

Raoul chuckled and turned to Christine. She smiled and led him to the door. "I'll be home later."

"I love you," he said, giving her a gentle kiss. When she tried to deepen it, he pulled away. "Not here, Christine. It's not proper."

"But it was proper at the opera?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she said.

Raoul turned to go without another word. Christine did not stop him.

_Is this what our life is going to be like? _she wondered. Shaking her head, she watched until the carriage had pulled out. She was about to go back inside when she heard another carriage coming from the other direction. Frowning, she looked back at the drive to see a black carriage trundling up toward the house. Walking back inside, she went to the sitting room and looked at Eva.

"Eva, I think there's someone here."

A small frown line creased Eva's brow and she looked out the window. Her eyes widened, and her face registered shock. "Oh, God," she murmured. "Nadir, it's Erik."

"Who is Erik?" Christine asked, confused.

Instead of answering, Eva rushed from the room, leaving Nadir and Christine behind. Christine made to follow her, but Nadir gently restrained her. "Would you be so kind," he said, "as to check on Jean?"

Christine nodded. "Where is he?"

"In the music room, I believe, practicing."

He rushed her up the stairs then followed after Eva. Christine was tempted to follow him, but instead headed toward the music room. When she arrived, she could hear Jean inside. She opened the door and peered in. He did not see her right away and continued to play. He was fantastic for a four year old boy. His hand barely made it around the instrument, but he played beautifully. Christine listened for several minutes until he finished his song, and then applauded, entering the room.

"Christine!" he cried, bouncing up and down. "Did you hear me? Am I getting good?"

"You're unbelievable!" she laughed, picking him up and spinning him in a circle. "Wait until you're a grown man, you'll be phenomenal!"

"I want to be just like Uncle Erik!" he exclaimed, grinning at her.

The name rang a bell. "Uncle?" she asked. "Erik is your uncle?"

The boy nodded excitedly.

"Let's go downstairs, Jean," she said, smiling. "I think there's someone you'd like to see."

The boy squealed with delight. "Who is it, who is it?"

"It a surprise." As she walked down the stairs, she could hear voices in the entrance way.

"It's not that I don't want you here, it's just that I have… company right now," she heard Eva say. "Maybe you could go out for a walk for a while."

"I don't want to go for a walk," said a deep voice. "I wish to see my nephew." The voice was somewhat familiar to Christine, but she could not place it.

At the sound of his uncle's voice, Jean began to squirm in Christine's arms, and she set him down. He raced down to the landing, then down the stairs and she heard him shout out to his uncle.

"Uncle Erik! You're here! I missed you! You have to come hear me play, I'm getting good, aren't I mother?" Christine smiled; she could practically see the boy attacking his unsuspecting uncle.

"Are you?" asked the deep voice that belonged to Erik Dusek. "You've been practicing, then?"

"I want to be as good as you are!" Jean said happily.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Christine found herself looking at the back of a man that had to be Eva's brother. He was tall and wore a long cloak. The hair beneath his hat was black, and he was very broad shouldered. As Christine watched, he removed the cloak and dropped it over the top of the little boy's head, then took off his hat, as well. Jean appeared from under the folds of the cloak, giggling.

"You're silly, Uncle Erik," he said.

The man laughed and raised the boy into his arms. As he was putting his uncle's hat on his head, Jean caught sight of Christine and smiled. Eva followed his gaze. The look on her face was positively horrified. Nadir caught sight of her, as well, and his dark eyes widened with shock. Christine frowned, unable to understand the looks on their faces.

"Uncle Erik," said Jean excitedly, "you have to meet Mademoiselle Christine!" He pointed at her over his uncle's shoulder, and the man turned to look at her.

For a long moment, no one in the room moved. Christine found herself having to force herself to breathe.

It was _him_.

He was here, standing in the entrance of Eva's house holding a little boy in his arms. She could see and feel the shock radiating from him as he stared at her through the white half-mask he wore.

Christine clutched a hand to her chest. "God," she whispered. She took a tentative step toward him, barely noticing Nadir take the confused Jean from him. For a long moment they merely stared at each other. "My God," she whispered again, as she took another step. She suddenly felt lightheaded. Her breathing was shallow and she saw his eyes widen as she swayed on the spot.

"Christine," said Eva, tentatively. "Are you alright?"

"I'm—" She tried to say _fine_ but the word never came from her lips. She felt her knees give way; felt herself tumble toward the floor. She heard them all cry out her name in alarm. Then everything went black.

_a/n Wow. This makes two chapters in the same day. That's gotta be a record. Ah, well. Terrible cliffy, I know. Maybe I'll do _another_ chapter today!_


	6. Chapter 5

_a/n Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. You're wonderful morale boosters. Here's your warning, however. I start classes tomorrow, so updates are going to most likely slow considerably in a week or less. You guys are great!_

_A little side note, don't call the horse thing corny. That actually happened to me once, and it was a really hot guy that caught me when I got my foot caught. I also feel that I should warn you—there's a major warm-fuzzy moment toward the end of this chapter. What can I say, other than I adore kids. On with the show!_

**CHAPTER 5—LET THE DREAM BEGIN**

Christine awoke sometime later, staring at the ceiling of the guest room. She lay, for a moment, confused as to where she was. Then she remembered. She had seen him. He was here.

Her head lolled off to one side, and she saw Nadir sitting on the loveseat with Eva's head in his lap. A book dangled from Nadir's fingers. The two of them had evidently fallen asleep watching her. Looking out the window, Christine saw that it was night. It was then that her ear caught something. It sounded like the piano. But if Eva was asleep in here…

There was only one person that it could be. Bracing herself for what she was about to do, Christine pushed the covers aside and crept past Nadir and Eva into the hall. Glancing back at them, she walked quietly toward the music room. As she opened the door silently, she could hear him singing softly.

"…Slowly, gently  
night unfurls its splendor.  
Grasp it, sense it  
tremulous and tender.  
Turn your face away  
from the garish light of day;  
turn your thoughts away  
from cold, unfeeling light,

and listen to the music of the night . . .  
Close your eyes  
and surrender to your  
darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts  
of the life  
you knew before!  
Close your eyes,  
let your spirit  
start to soar!"

His voice caught in his throat and he hung his head. His shoulder began to shake. He tried to go on, but could not. Entering the room, Christine sang, quietly, "And you'll live as you've never lived before."

She would have thought that turning so quickly would have hurt his neck. He looked at her with wide eyes. "What— where—"

Ignoring the protests her brain was screaming at her, Christine smiled at him. "Hello, Erik." She moved across the room to sit next to him on the bench. She reached up and brushed tears from his face. "Don't stop," she said quietly.

Still looking stunned, he began to play again, and they sang together.

"Softly, deftly,  
music shall surround you.  
Feel it, hear it,  
closing in around you.  
Open up your mind,  
let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness which  
you know you cannot fight -  
the darkness of  
the music of the night."

Christine became so engrossed in the music, in the beautiful words issuing from her lips, that she did not notice him stop singing to listen to her. She did not see the smile that played across his lips as she sang.

"Let your soul take you

where you long to be!

only then

can you belong

to me."

She stopped singing when she realized that he had, and smiled at him. "You were the business in Vienna," she said. "She went to see you. Why?"

"To tell me you were here." Erik looked away from her, at his hands. "She wanted me to come to see you." Tears were streaking down his face again. It tore her heart to see him looking so helpless. It tore her more when he looked up at her. "I'm too late, aren't I?"

Now she was crying, too. "Yes," she said, softly. _No!_ Her mind screamed at her. _Tell him no! He's not too late! He's not too late…_

A weak smile crossed his face. "I think I knew that, though," he said. "Before I came, I mean. I knew I had waited too long."

Reaching down, Christine took his hand. "We can always remain friends, though," she said gently. "I want us to at least have that."

"But we can't tell him."

Christine didn't need to ask to know whom Erik was referring to. "No," she agreed. "Raoul can never even know you're alive."

At this, Erik laughed. "I see my trick worked."

Confused, Christine stared at him for a moment. "Your trick?" she asked. She looked at him a minute longer before an amusing notion materialized in her brain. "You didn't do what I think you did."

The smirk on his face was answer enough, and she covered her mouth to stifle the giggles emitting from it. "You put your own obituary in the paper?"

"I have many friends," he said mysteriously.

They were both laughing now, and she had to lean against his shoulder as not to fall off of the bench. Their laughter continued for several minutes before subsiding, leaving them staring at each other. She felt the urge to kiss him, but he looked at his pocket watch. "It's not too late for you to go home," he said softly. "It would be wisest for you to leave now. I doubt they'd see if I took you."

She nodded and stood up. He turned to leave the room, gesturing for her to follow him. "Come."

As they exited through the back of the house closest to the stables, Erik grabbed his cloak. As they entered the stables, Christine shivered slightly. He saw, and removed his cloak to wrap around her. She smiled up at him as he began to ready Caesar to take them to the Chagnys. He helped her up first, then climbed on behind her. She wrapped her arms about his waist, and they were off.

The ride home was silent, and Christine found herself longing to tell him to take her back and never let her go. But she didn't, and he slid down before her in the darkness at the edge of the drive.

"Oh, no," she said.

"'Oh, no' what?" he asked.

She smiled sheepishly at him. "I don't know if I can get down in this dress."

They stared at each other for a moment before they both burst out laughing. "Here," he said, still chortling, "I'll catch you."

Very awkwardly, Christine maneuvered herself to jump down, but instead slid off haphazardly into Erik's arms. She giggled as she landed, bent over and clinging to Erik, who was also laughing. The second she stood upright, however, their laughter died as they stared into each others eyes. As she looked at him, she noticed something.

"It was you," she said softly. When he looked at her quizzically, she elaborated. "The first time I saw Eva, she reminded me of someone—her eyes did." Her voice grew husky. "She reminded me of you."

Looking back later, she would never be able to tell who initiated what happened next. All she knew was that her arms were wrapped tightly around him, and his around her, and she was kissing him more fiercely than she had ever kissed anyone in her life. She half expected him to pull her back onto the horse and take her away, but he didn't. He wrenched his lips from hers and set her away from him. His eyes were glazed over, and she knew that her face had to be flushed and her lips swollen.

"Go," he rasped. "Go home."

Then he leapt on the horse and vanished into the night.

The next week passed quickly. All to soon, it was the night before the wedding and Christine was in a frenzy trying to get everything prepared. It had been a hellish week—every time she had gone to Eva's, Erik was nowhere to be seen. Although Eva did not say as much, Christine suspected she knew of the kiss in the drive she had shared with Erik. She merely acted as though nothing odd had happened, until Christine suggested that she stay at Eva's the night before the wedding.

"Are you sure that's wise?" she had blurted.

Christine rationalized that either Raoul or herself had to leave the house, since they would not see each other before the wedding.

"It wouldn't be fair to force Raoul out of his own house," Christine said. "I know what you're thinking, Eva," she added, seeing the doubtful look on Eva's face. "I haven't seen your brother all week—I think he's been hiding from me. Why would something suddenly happen?"

Now, however, she began having doubts about her decision. As Raoul loaded her into the carriage that would take her to Eva's home, he kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Sleep well," he said. "And tomorrow we will be man and wife."

Forcing a smile, Christine climbed into the carriage and set off. When she arrived, she was surprised to find that Eva was not home.

"She and Master Nadir had an errand to run in town earlier today and said they would not be back until late," Corinne told her. "She said to tell you to make yourself at home in the guest room. I'll send someone down to carry up your bags." She glanced toward the dining room. "There's still dinner left, if you're hungry, ma'am."

Christine smiled. "I am, thank you, Corinne." When she entered the dining room, however, she nearly walked back out.

Standing in front of the massive fireplace, his back to her and holding a glass of brandy, was Erik. She stood in silence for a long moment before he seemed to sense her presence. He turned to look at her.

"Hello," she said, quietly.

"Hello, Christine." He sounded tired, as if being back in France after so many months had sucked all of the life from him. His eyes moved back to the fire and she struggled not to become annoyed with him, instead remaining silent. She reached for a chicken leg and, in a very unladylike manner, bit into it hungrily. She heard what sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter from the corner, and she looked up at Erik quizzically. He shook his head and turned away, but his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. After a moment, she joined in, and the two of them chortled all the way through her dinner.

When she had finished eating, he smiled at her. "Drink?" he asked.

Christine stepped closer to him. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I've never had alcohol before."

He reached onto the mantle for a bottle and a snifter and poured a small amount of brown liquid for her. He handed her the drink then turned back to the fire. She took a sip and pulled a face. He noticed, and smiled.

"It's something of an acquired taste," he said, still chuckling. She nodded and downed the rest with a grimace and said, "Disgusting."

He smiled at her, then took the snifter from her, setting it on the table. "What brings you here tonight, Christine?" he asked.

"I'm staying here tonight," she said. "Can't see the groom before the wedding, you know."

"Ah, yes," he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "You're getting married tomorrow."

An uncomfortable silence followed his words, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Soon though, Christine could not stand silence any longer.

"What is it?" she asked. "For the last week I haven't seen or spoken with you. Why are you suddenly like this?" She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes. "You knew this was coming, and yet you still hate me for it!"

At this, Erik whirled around to face her. "I don't hate you!" he burst out. "I—"

Christine felt the tears slipping down her face as she stepped closer to him. "You what?" She reached down for his hand, taking it in hers. "Tell me, Erik." When he looked away, she reached up to jerk his face toward her. "What is it?"

"You know how I feel," he said quietly. "There's no use talking about it now. Tomorrow you will be someone else's wife, and it won't matter anymore."

"How can you say that?" She let go of his face and took his other hand. "After everything that has happened between us, how can you say that it won't matter after tomorrow, or next week or month? It will still matter years from now." Christine let go of his hands and turned away from him. "I've found myself wondering what life would have been like with you," she said softly. "If I had stayed that night, I mean. But I thought I would have to spend so much time waiting for you to stop running from everything. I thought—I _know_ that Raoul can make me happy. That's why I left with him." The tears were coming harder. "If you had asked me to stay, though, I would have." She moved to the massive window and looked toward Raoul's home. "Half of me wanted you to ask me to stay, to beg me not to leave you again. But you didn't."

She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the tears in his voice. "If I asked you to stay now, would you?"

She wasn't sure how to answer. Part of her wanted to say yes, and part wanted to say no. She did not have to answer him, though, because at that moment the puffy-eyed, tousle-haired Jean appeared in the doorway. The little boy had tears in his eyes, and Erik immediately rushed to him, picking him up and shushing him gently. "What's wrong, Jean?" he asked.

"I had a bad dream," the boy whimpered. "I'm scared to go back to bed. The monsters will get me."

Erik laughed and bounced Jean up and down slightly. "We'll go scare them off, shall we?" he asked. "I'm scarier than anything you'll see up there."

For a moment Jean stared at Erik's mask, and Christine knew what was coming next. In the short time she had known him, Jean had always been a very curious boy. Now, he reached up to his uncle's face and gently pulled the mask from it. She half expected Erik to put the boy down and yell at him, but he didn't. Jean reached up one finger and tentatively traced the right side of his face with his fingers. He did not look repulsed, but confused. "Why did they send you away?" he asked. "You're a person, Uncle Erik, not a monster. You just have a funny face."

Erik smiled sadly at Jean. "Not everyone thinks so, Jean."

Still confused, Jean looked at Christine. "You know he's still a person, don't you, Christine?"

Stepping closer to the two of them, Christine reached up to stroke the boy's hair. "Yes, Jean," she said. "I know he's a person."

"Christine knows you're a person, and Mama knows, and Nadir knows, and I know." He looked back at his uncle. "Everyone who loves you knows you're a normal person. That's what really matters."

He spoke with the confidence of a child and while it was Christine's first instinct to dismiss it as childhood naivety, she found herself adoring Jean all the more. Before she could start crying again, she looked at Erik, who was replacing his mask. "Let's get this strapping young lad back to bed, shall we?" she asked.

Erik forced a smile and nodded, and they walked together with Jean still in Erik's arms back to the boy's room. Once he was back in bed and Erik had performed a satisfactory monster check, he knelt next to the boy's bed.

"No monsters," he said, smiling slightly. "Now go to sleep." As he leaned down to kiss the boy's forehead, Christine felt a rush of compassion and a strange feeling that he would be a wonderful father come over her.

When he stood up, the little boy reached out his arms toward Christine. Smiling, she sat on the edge of his bed. "Goodnight, Jean," she said softly. She stroked back his hair and kissed his forehead gently. "Go to sleep."

"Will you sing for me?" he asked, looking at both of them. They looked at each other.

"Do you know any lullabies?" Erik asked softly.

Christine was thoughtful for a moment before she smiled. "The one you used to sing to me." When he frowned in confusion, she added, "When I was young and afraid, you would sing to me."

"Ah." He cleared his throat and smiled at her. "You may need to help me with the words." And quietly, they began to sing.

"Sleep my child and peace attend thee,  
All through the night  
Guardian angels God will send thee,  
All through the night  
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping  
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,  
I my loving vigil keeping  
All through the night."

Jean's eyes were growing heavy very quickly, and they continued to sing.

"While the moon her watch is keeping  
All through the night  
While the weary world is sleeping  
All through the night  
O'er they spirit gently stealing  
Visions of delight revealing  
Breathes a pure and holy feeling  
All through the night."

Erik nudged Christine gently, nodding toward Jean. He seemed to be asleep, and they quietly crept toward the door, still singing.

"Love, to thee my thoughts are turning  
All through the night  
All for thee my heart is yearning,  
All through the night.  
Though sad fate our lives may sever  
Parting will not last forever,  
There's a hope that leaves me never,  
All through the night."

"I think he's asleep now," whispered Christine. Erik nodded and quietly closed the door. For a moment they looked at each other before he said, "We should go to bed."

Christine's eyes widened. "We should—what?"

Erik's eyes widened and he seemed to be working to stifle a laugh. "_Separately_, Christine!" He shook his head, still trying not to laugh. "Good night."

"Good night."

As she entered her room, Christine cursed herself. _What were you doing even _thinking_ of going to bed with him?_ The thought rang through her brain. She knew exactly why she had thought of that. _I want to go to bed with him_. After donning a nightgown, she looked in the mirror. An insane urge to race to his room was pulling her eyes to the door.

_Just go to bed_, she thought. She looked at her massive bed, then once again at the door, and she made her decision.


	7. Chapter 6

_a/n Okay, you all have to bear with me here. Again. Did you notice the rating change? I've never written anything with actual sexual content before today, and I don't have a beta reader (speaking of which, if anyone wants the job, e-mail me—I'd really like someone with some writing experience) so this very well could be EXTERMELY bad. I don't know. I'm relying on my own "whore"-ific high school experiences to do this. I'm writing this before I do anything else, and at this point I think it's to kill time. Okay. Brace yourselves and grab a puke bag._

**CHAPTER 6—ONCE AGAIN SHE RETURNS**

Her mind made up, Christine turned away from her bed and toward the door. As she entered the hallway and began walking to his room, she could not believe herself. In twenty-four hours, she would be married to Raoul, but her feelings right now were telling her to go to Erik's room.

She was there before she was ready. Taking a deep breath, she knocked twice. When he didn't answer, she knocked again. With still no answer, she opened the door and hesitantly stuck her head in. He was not there yet. She stepped inside and looked around.

His clothes had been tossed carelessly onto the bed. On a desk in the corner, his wig had been placed on its manikin's head and his mask rested next to it. Just off the center of the desk was a picture frame. Christine was surprised to see it—she had half expected to find a cold room with no sign that someone sometimes lived here. It must have been taken shortly after Eva made contact with Erik. She was sitting in a chair in an elegant dress Christine had never seen before with Jean sitting on her lap. Erik stood behind them wearing his white mask and resting a hand on his sister's shoulder. Christine lifted the heavy frame in her hand and smiled at the image. Erik had a family. Just then, she heard the door click open behind her and she quickly put the picture back on the desk before turning to face him.

He walked in the door wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and stopped dead when he saw Christine. She felt her face heat up at the sight and she quickly averted her eyes. "I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't realize—I didn't know you were…" She trailed off and smiled pathetically.

"What are you doing here?" he asked blankly.

"I thought…" How could she say this without making a fool of herself? "It's just that… I'm not married yet," she said lamely. "And I thought…"

The look on his face had changed from confused to mischievous. "What did you think, Christine?" he asked, advancing on her slowly.

She was frozen to the spot, legs and arms immobile. "I thought we could… we could…"

He was so close now. "We could what, Christine?" Damn him, he _knew_ what she was thinking of.

"You know what I'm talking about," she whispered. He was right in front of her now and she realized that she had forgotten how tall he was. She started to repeat what she had just said when he took her face in his hands, leaned down, and kissed her gently. Her brain screaming in protest and her body in need, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back hard. Strong arms lifted her up and carried her across the room to his bed. Laying her down gently, Erik began to untie her dressing gown. She raised a hand to stop him.

"Lock the door," she gasped.

He smiled at her. "Your wish is my command." He stood and crossed the room to lock the door. As he did so, Christine sat up, removing the robe. She took a deep breath and leaned back on the pillows. When he returned to the bed, he stood for a moment, looking at her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

Christine nodded, reaching for his hand. "I think I've always wanted to." She pulled him down next to her. "Make love to me."

Never in her life had Christine experienced a kiss like the one he gave her at that moment. She felt the hair on her arms rise and her toes curl. She pulled him down on top of her, wrapping a leg around his waist, and he moaned into her mouth. His hands left hers to seize the bottom of her night dress, pulling it up and off. Christine was left in only her drawers, and she blushed again as he slid them off of her. He sat back on his heels to look at her, grabbing her hands again when she tried to cover herself up.

"You're beautiful." His face look mesmerized. "I've never seen anyone…" He shook his head and smiled. "You're an amazing woman, Christine Daae."

Smiling shyly, Christine rolled under the blankets and between the sheets. She poked her head out at him and said, "Aren't you going to turn down the lights?" When he shook his head, she gave him a quizzical look. "Why?"

"You can't see anything when the lights are off." And without any warning, he dropped the towel.

Christine was at a loss for words as he slid under the covers beside her. For a long moment they simply stared at each other before he kissed her again. This time, though, he didn't stop. His lips moved across hers, then down her jaw line and neck until he was brushing her collarbone. As he began kissing lower, Christine felt her breathing speed up. When his lips moved to her breast, she felt her back arch up of its own accord and she moaned loudly. He eventually stopped, however, and she pouted until he kissed her lips and moved between her legs.

"I'm sorry if this hurts you," he whispered, and before she could ask what he meant, he slid inside her.

It did hurt. She gasped and dug her fingernails into his shoulder, tears brimming in her eyes. She felt his hand stroking her hair back from her forehead. He placed a gentle kiss there. After a minute or two, he began to move inside of her. It did hurt, at first, but the pain quickly became a pleasure the likes of which she had never seen before. She felt a beautiful, liquid heat inside her and knew she was reaching her release. Her eyes flew open, looking up at Erik as he moved above her. He looked back at her for a moment before crushing his lips to hers. Suddenly, the heat became more intense than it had been before and her back arched up again. She screamed into Erik's mouth and felt him begin to shake. A minute later, he tumbled over after her and crashed on top of her.

For several minutes neither of them moved. Then an irresistible urge to giggle overcame Christine and she dissolved into child-like laughter. She curled into a ball on her side, shaking from head to toe with delight. Erik looked at her, obviously amused. "What has you giggling like a school girl?" he asked.

She rolled onto her back to look at him. "That was amazing," she said, still smiling.

"If you think that was amazing," he said, that mischievous glint back in his eyes, "wait until I'm done with you after this."

Then he proceeded to kiss his way to her thighs and between her legs and make her scream.

Several hours later, having made love again, Christine lay awake in Erik's arms with her head pillowed on his chest. As she twirled the hair there between her fingers she lost herself in her thoughts until she felt him stir. Looking up at him, she asked, "How did you come to know Nadir?"

For a moment, he was quiet and she wondered if he had heard her. She started to ask him again when he answered. "I spent a good deal of my younger days in Persia with him," he said. "I've known him since I was a much younger man." He smiled down at her and kissed her hair. "What made you think of that?"

"I don't know."

They were quiet again for some time while Erik rested his chin on the top of her head, toying with her curls. Christine was lost in her thoughts again, wondering what would happen now. She was not going to her marriage bed pure. She thought she might be falling in love with a man she was not going to marry. She was…

Unfaithful.

Erik seemed to know what she was thinking. "Don't think about that, Christine," he murmured. "Just try to sleep."

Propping her chin on his chest, she leaned up to kiss him. He kissed her back, then leaned over to turn down the lamp. She snuggled beneath his arm, closing her eyes, and falling asleep almost instantly.

After what seemed like less than a minute, she was awakened by a knock on the door and Eva's voice. "Erik?" she called. "Erik, have you seen Christine?"

Christine sat bolt upright in the bed. Erik had already jumped out of bed and was quickly pulling on clothes. He pressed a finger to his lips and tossed her her nightgown, shouting, "No, Eva, I forgot she was even here."

"You're sure?" Eva sounded suspicious.

"Positive." When she did not respond, Erik turned to Christine. "She's probably gone off to look for you, so go straight to your room and get dressed—say you went for a walk."

As she finished pulling on her nightgown, he made to leave, but she grabbed his arm. "Erik," she said quietly. She paused, trying to think of something to say. "Thank you."

He cupped her cheek with a loving hand. "I will always love you, Christine," he said quietly, and he drew her into his arms for one last passionate kiss before leaving the room.

Christine looked around before rushing back to her room and dressing hurriedly. Less than a minute after she had pulled on her shoes, Eva opened the door. Her face registered surprise to see Christine. "I couldn't find you," she said. "Where have you been?"

"Walking," she said hurriedly, but she knew that Eva knew she wasn't being honest.

Eva's eyes softened a bit. "Christine," she said quietly. "You don't _have_ to get married today."

Looking out the window, Christine whispered, "I know." She felt tears come to her eyes. "But I can't leave him."

"Who, Christine?" Eva took Christine's hand. "You can't leave Raoul, or Erik? You have a choice, Christine. You don't have to marry Raoul."

"You could never understand, Eva," Christine said, "what it's like to be loved by two men. Raoul can offer me a safe future, and Erik…" Christine felt tears begin to run down her face. "There would be the risk of someone finding out who he is. We could never have a family and be truly safe."

Eva face was a blur as she pulled Christine to her. "I know," she said gently. "But you don't have to marry him. No one can make you."

"I know, Eva," Christine said. She forced a watery smile for her friend. "You're a good friend."

That night, she left France on her honeymoon.

_a/n I'm sorry about the wait for this lousy chapter—school's back on! I worked as hard as I could between classes to do this just for all you guys! And don't worry, this isn't the end—you think I'd leave it like this? Nope. Not me!_

_Ah. I forgot to mention. You may now throw away those barf bags—chapter's over._


	8. Chapter 7

_a/n Have faith. That's all I ask of you._

**CHAPTER 7—SECRETLY… SECRETLY…**

For two months Christine and Raoul traveled Europe on their honeymoon, Raoul conducting business in nearly every city they visited and Christine spending an increasing amount of time on her own. Sometimes, she said, she would visit cathedrals and museums, but she spent most of her time writing to Eva.

As she read the letters over, Eva began to feel worse and worse for her friend. Normal men, she knew, did not "conduct business" on honeymoons. Christine had told Eva that most of his work was in the afternoons and evenings and that he sometimes would not come home until very early in the morning. Eva had a nagging suspicion that Raoul's "business" had to do with making sure that Spanish, Italian, and German brothels remained in business. She confided in Nadir, who agreed with her.

"A man does not leave his new wife for simple business," he had said. This had been assurance enough for Eva.

By the time Christine and Raoul returned home, Eva was beginning to think that they were never going to return. One afternoon, though, the doorbell rang and Christine burst through, looking as though she couldn't wait to see Eva. Happy as she was to see her friend, Eva couldn't help ask why she wasn't with her husband.

"He…" Christine looked down at her hands.

"Business," said Eva bitterly. When Christine looked up at her, she added, "I'm sure he'll be home again—"

"You don't have to make excuses for him, Eva," Christine burst out suddenly. "I know where he's been when he comes home smelling like smoke and—and sex!" Eva's eyes widened. Christine's face was beet red. "I know he's going to whorehouses for something I guess that I just can't give him. I swear I must be horrible because after the second night, he had to leave. 'Business,' he said. And when I'd ask where he went, he'd tell me it was none of my business. None of my business!" She threw her hands up, frustrated. "You were right, Eva," she said. "I shouldn't have married him." Christine was so wrapped up in her tirade that she did not notice the door open and someone else step into the room. "I know I'll have a safe, secure future with this man, but it's going to drive me crazy knowing that when he leaves on business with Phillipe that there is a whore in a brothel somewhere making him happier than I am. If I hadn't married him, I'd probably still be in bed being fucked senseless by someone who actually cared and could offer me an exciting future."

Eva's jaw dropped. She had never heard Christine speak in such a vulgar manner. She tried to tell Christine to stop, but a hand over her mouth stopped her. She glared at its owner as Christine ranted on.

"I mean, I know Raoul has been my friend since we were children, but that doesn't mean we had to get married. Maybe I don't please him, but he doesn't please me!" She began to pace as she glared at the floor. "I'm not saying we've not had sex, because we have. We spent _days_ doing nothing but that, and do you know, he never pleasured me once! I had five orgasms in one night with Erik, who I would probably be having the time of my life with right now if I weren't married!" She plunked down in a chair and scowled before turning to Eva. When she saw who was behind her, her eyes widened and her face flushed.

"Oh, God," she moaned, sinking her face into her hands. From between her fingers, Eva heard her say, "Hello, Erik."

* * *

Eva took her leave saying she needed to check on Jean, and left Christine and Erik alone. Never in her life had Christine been so embarrassed. For a long time after Eva left neither of them spoke. When she finally moved her hands away from her face, she saw that he was wearing a very handsome smirk. She smiled weakly at him.

"It's very nice to see you too, Christine," he said, before taking a seat across from him. "From communications Eva received from you it seems you were quite disappointed with your husband."

Sighing heavily, Christine resigned herself to having a conversation with Erik that she did not want to have and said, "You heard what I said. I would have been better off if I hadn't married him." She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "I'll be honest with you, Erik; I really don't want to have this conversation right now. Let's talk about something happy." She opened one eye. "How are Jean's studies coming along?"

Christine found she could hardly understand Erik, he was talking so fast. Every bit the proud uncle, he gushed about his nephew's progress on the violin. Christine felt herself begin to drift off, his deep voice soothing her into sleep. When she opened her eyes, she was disorientated. She was no longer sitting in the parlor, but laying on her guest room bed with a throw blanket thrown over her. Erik was asleep at her desk, hunched over manuscript paper with his fingers curled around his pen. Looking out of the window, she could see that it was twilight. She sat up, rubbing her head. She had not realized how tired she really was. When she stretched and a small sound rose from her throat, Erik stirred at the desk. He looked up, apparently confused, and then looked back at her. Seeing that she was awake, he stood up, gathering his papers. "You should get home," he said.

"Why?"

His face twisted somewhat. "Your husband might worry about you."

Christine shook her head. "My husband is in Milan with Phillipe."

Erik frowned in confusion. "You just got back."

"He stayed behind. I came back alone." Christine looked back out of the window. "How is this going to work if he's never here?" She shook her head. "I suppose you heard what I said downstairs."

"Not all of it."

"I shouldn't have married him." She heaved a sigh. "I should ask for an annulment."

At this, Erik chuckled. "You can't."

"Why not?" she asked.

"You've consummated your marriage. The only way to get rid of him now is divorce, and to the world, he's the perfect Catholic, so that seems very unlikely." Erik began to head to the door, but Christine stopped him.

"You know the ways of the world, Erik," she said slowly, the cogs in her head turning with a wonderfully unholy idea. "Do most men in society have mistresses?"

Erik leaned against the doorway. "It often seems to be that way."

"What would a wife have?"

Eyebrows raised, he stood up straight. "You mean, in equivalent to a mistress? She could have a lover, I suppose." When she gave no response other than to stare at him, his eyes widened. "You don't mean—"

"I do." She stood up, stepping toward him. "Maybe I'm crazy, or just plain stupid—I don't know. But Raoul is never home, and I don't even know if I love him the way I used to. I've tried to love him," she added, "but I can't help…" For a moment she was quiet, then she turned her brown eyes up to Erik's green ones. "When he was making love to me, I almost said your name." She slipped her hand into his. "I want to say your name," she whispered.

Erik looked down at her for a long time before he spoke. "If we do this," he said slowly, "I want you to know that there could be consequences. If he ever found out—"

"He won't," she said. "He's never here."

Grasping her arm, he shook his head. "No, Christine," he said. "He can't know. _Ever._" He was speaking differently than she had ever heard him speak before. His eyes looked desperately into hers. "This has to be a secret."

"It will," she said. Then she was lost again, lost in his eyes, his lips, his hands…

No one at the Chagney home noticed that she did not come back that night.

_a/n Okay, really short, sucky chapter, but it's here._

_I would like to leave a quick note regarding reviews. I'm not making you read this--if you don't like it,STOP READING. I honestly won't be offended, because I probably won't even know you read it at all. You're totally encouraged to tell me what sucks and what rocks about this. Do not, however, leave vague shit that is a waste of my EXTREMELY valuable time to read, like, "Jeeze, I don't think I wanted to read this." WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL READING? (This is the part where steam shoots from the ears and Gracie runs down the hall screaming, freaking out everyone on her floor.) I'm sorry if that was offensive, because I love you guys--you know that. I just get cranky when people say stuff like that, then don't tell me, "You know, it would be really nifty if you could do this..." because I actually respond to that. If you've read my _The Last Night_, you know this--that's the whole point of that story-ish thing. So please, leave constructive reviews. It's really what encourages me to write more chapter and less bitchy notes. Sorry again if I offended you with any harsh language or bad attitude._

_Another little sidenote--tink20, Twinkle22, andDarkMoonLightBright: you guys are AWSOME! You've been here forever, and I love you to death for it. This chapter belongs to you guys. Love you!_


	9. Chapter 8

_a/n__ I apologize again for the meanness of last chapter. Something got stuck up my butt and it took quite a while to get rid of it (I just started school). I really do love all of you. If you're not in the mood for another cliffie, DO NOT read this chapter!_

_And now, without further ado, THE WHORES!_

**CHAPTER 8—YOU DECEIVED ME**

Five months into her illicit relationship with Erik, he told her that he had run across some interesting information on a recent trip to Vienna. Raoul's business in Austria at the Vienna Opera was not exactly what it seemed. As Raoul was the patron to that house, Erik had the opportunity to keep a close eye on him when he was in Vienna, and he soon found out that Raoul had not actually been visiting brothels.

"Just a young performer," he informed Christine over dinner one night at Eva's. "You may know her; I believe her name is Sonia."

Christine dropped her fork. "Sonia Moretti?" To say she was shocked was an understatement. She did know Sonia—had met her when the young woman had taken a break from the opera several weeks ago. Having become ill, the doctor had informed her that her best chance at a speedy recovery would be a trip to the country. Raoul had offered to give her a place to stay, and Sonia had stayed in the house they had purchased several miles from Eva's home. Sonia had eaten at her table, bathed under her room, slept down the hall from Christine and Raoul's bedchamber. Now that she thought back, Christine had thought it odd that, upon returning from visits to see Eva and Erik, Raoul had seemed extremely buoyant and Sonia had looked flushed.

"I can't believe him," she said, feeling herself begin to shake. "I wonder if they did it in our bed. It wouldn't surprise me."

"Who is she?" Eva asked.

"You remember her," Erik said. "That little blonde thing that came to stay a while back. The 'most up and coming performer' in the house." He took a bite of his steak. "Sonia Moretti, diva and mistress." He swallowed and said, "Has a nice ring to it."

Christine giggled at this. She had to admit, she was no better than Raoul. At least twice a week when he was home, she would leave to spend time alone with Erik if he was staying with Eva and Nadir, who had by now completely moved in. When Erik was in Vienna, she spent time with Eva, who seemed to be hinting that there was more going on between her and Nadir than met the eye. She had flatly admitted to raucous love making and something called "kama sutra" when Christine had teased her, and now it seemed that it would not be long before the two announced their formal engagement.

At the moment, Raoul was again in Vienna, both escorting Sonia back and taking care of a small crisis that had arisen involving several stage hands striking for lack of pay. Christine had dismissed the servants under vow of silence and with full pay for the next week, so that she could stay at Eva's without returning home. She had done this before—when Raoul left, so did she. He was ignorant, though, of the latter fact.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Corinne entered, holding out a letter to Erik.

"Express for you, Count Dusek."

A snort of laughter escaped from Christine, as it always did when someone called Erik by his title. The fact that the opera ghost was in fact a wealthy count, and one still respected in his native Czechoslovakia, never ceased to amuse her. The thought brought a question to mind.

"Eva, do you even own anything in Czechoslovakia?"

Her friend looked up from the letter Corinne had handed her. "Erik owns our parents house," she said.

"I'm having it demolished," he said flatly. His eyes scanned the letter in his hand and he set it down in disgust. "It seems that our Sonia is no longer of any importance after all," he said. "I've been informed that your husband has broken off their relationship and that the young lady is quite distressed. Also that…" His eyes grew large. "He's coming back… early?"

If it was possible for time to actually come to a complete halt, it did just then. None of the moved, spoke, or even seemed to breathe. "How early?" Christine asked slowly.

Nadir looked at the postmark on the envelope, then to the letter in Erik's hands. "He should…" The two men looked at each other, horrified. "He could be back right now."

Perfectly on cue, the doorbell rang. Before Corinne could rush from the room, Christine heard the enormous door creak open and Raoul's voice demand, "Where's Christine?"

"Oh, my God," Eva whispered, looking panicked. They could hear Raoul's footsteps coming closer. She looked at Erik, and Christine knew that she was petrified. "Erik, hide."

Without a word, Erik raced from the room toward a semi-hidden door on the opposite side of the room. Nadir grabbed the letter from the table and Eva quickly hid Erik's plate under the table. It landed on the floor with a thunk just before the door burst open and Raoul entered, looking furious.

"Where have you been?" he fumed. "I return home early to see you and there's not a servant in the house, you're gone, not a soul around can tell me where you've gone." Storming across the room toward her, he grasped her arm. "What are you doing here?"

Christine cringed and tried to tear her arm away. She was not sure that Erik had gone, and knew that there was a small vent to see through if he had stayed outside the door. "Let go, Raoul," she said. "You're hurting me."

"Tell me what you're doing here!" he said angrily, shaking her. Something was wrong, Christine though. He had never behaved like this.

She pulled again at her arm, which felt like it was bruising. "Let go of me!"

From the corner in which he had been standing quietly, Nadir stepped toward Raoul and forcefully pulled the younger man backward. Not having seen Nadir come up from the side, Raoul stumbled backward, and Christine scampered toward Eva, who clutched Christine with protective arms.

Eva glared at Raoul with a fury Christine had never seen before. "Raoul, what's gotten in to you?" she said furiously. "She came to stay here because she wanted company. It's you who should be scorned. You're the one who constantly leaves her alone. Can you blame her for wanting a friend?"

At her forceful words, Raoul seemed to come to his senses. His face fell and he looked discouraged. "I'm sorry," he said pathetically. "I just… I couldn't find you, that's all."

Squeezing Eva's hand, Christine stepped toward Raoul. She looked into his face for a moment, then, deciding he was sincerely sorry, turned to Eva. "Thank you, Eva. I'll send someone along for my things later."

She turned and stormed from the room. Climbing haphazardly into the carriage that waited outside, she blew out a furious sigh and glared at Raoul as he climbed in after her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

"Don't you ever," she hissed, "ever, do that to me again." As he tried to move to sit beside her, she moved to sit on the other side of the cab. "If you touch me like that again, embarrass me like that, I will leave you without a moment's hesitation."

"You would never leave me, Christine," said Raoul, but his voice was hesitant.

Her voice softer but no less intense, Christine looked him directly in the eye and said, "You don't know what I would do if you pushed me far enough, Raoul de Chagny."

* * *

It had been a month since Raoul had returned from Vienna, and he seemed to be in no hurry to return. While it was nice to see her husband for a change, Christine found that there were now small nitpicky things about him that made him crazy. When Christine woke up in the morning after making love, she was used to having someone next to her, wrapped around her from behind. By the time Christine rose, however, Raoul would have left for breakfast without waking her. He was more loving now than he had been throughout their marriage, however, more like he had been back at the opera house. Still, though, he lacked the passion that Erik emanated in every fiber of his being. Christine found herself longing to spend more time with Erik than she did her husband. She continued to feel guilty until Raoul announced that he would be leaving in a few months for a longer time than he ever had before.

"Six months?" she exclaimed when he told her how long. "You don't mean weeks, you mean months?"

"Yes, Christine, there's going to be a great deal of renovation going on, and since I'm paying for it, I'd like to be there." When he never offered her the option of going with him, the guilt she felt over her relationship with Erik evaporated in an instant. "I'll still be here for a few months, though."

Christine stood up from the dinner table and left the room. She heard Raoul follow her, calling after her and asking where she was going. She did not answer, but saddled a horse and left to see Eva. If anyone would understand what she was talking about, it would be Eva.

Twenty minutes later, Christine cantered up to the house. She stopped a gardener in the front lawn to ask where Eva was.

"The Viscountess left for town with the daroga and young Master Jean some time ago," he said. "They're not expected back until sometime tomorrow."

Christine nearly burst into tears. No one was here. Erik had left to make an appearance in Vienna and to check on the apartment there and was not coming back until at least tomorrow. She thanked the gardener politely and turned to head back up the lane. She had begun to slowly return home, dejected, when she saw a black speck coming down the road toward her. Squinting, she tried to discern what it was. After a minute, she could just see an enormous black horse with a man in a black riding cloak riding atop it. It had to be Erik—there was no one else for miles that would have reason to come this way. She sped up, waving with one hand. At first, he did not seem to be able to see who she was. Then his face burst into a rare smile and he spurred his horse faster. Slowing to a halt as she neared him, she nearly fell off the horse as she reached out to embrace him.

"I missed you," she whispered. "I can't believe you're here already! Eva said you weren't coming until tomorrow."

Erik chuckled. "I can leave again if you'd like."

"Oh, don't!" She managed to maneuver herself onto the horse behind him. "Don't ever leave me again."

He turned his head to kiss her, and in a second she felt whole again. When he pulled away, they had started moving back toward the house. He grasped the reigns of her horse in his hands in addition to Caesar's, and rested a hand on hers, which she had wrapped around his waist. "How's your fop of a husband?" he asked.

Christine snorted in disgust. "He's going to leave in about four months to go to Vienna for—"

"Six months," he said, nodding. "The theater's renovating."

"That takes six months?"

Erik tensed. "Not exactly," he said slowly. "I've heard a rumor, Christine. I'm sure it's nothing more than just that, but…" He turned up the lane toward the house, shaking his head. "I don't want to upset you."

"Erik," Christine said slowly. "Tell me. Don't keep me in the dark. What did you hear?"

As he helped her down and handed the reigns of the horses to the stable boy, who had rushed to meet them, he said, "You remember when I told you about Sonia Moretti."

"Yes." Christine scowled as she linked her arm through Erik's. "He's not going back to her, is he?"

"Like you'd be one to talk if he did," he said with a small laugh. His face became serious again very quickly, though. "If my information is correct—"

"Which it always is."

"If it's correct," he said, "then Sonia Moretti's current absence from the opera house has nothing to do with her illness."

"If it did," Christine said darkly, "she'd be here, wouldn't she?"

Erik stopped walking suddenly, and Christine turned to him. Even in the twilight, she could see the hesitation on his face. "Christine," he said softly. "There's a rumor going about that—" He paused. "That is to say, my sources tell me that she came from a doctor looking upset several months ago. She'd been vomiting a great deal, and was concerned for her health. You know she has ulcers. It wasn't ulcers, though, Christine."

Her stomach was churning uncomfortably. "Erik," she said quietly. "What have you heard?"

"I paid her doctor for the information," he said gently. "He informed me that Sonia is expecting a child in several months, right around the time Raoul will arrive in Vienna. No one can tell me for sure if the child is his or not, but the circumstances are suspicious. For instance, it should only take three months to renovate the opera if things go on schedule."

"He's going to spend three months with her?" she burst out. "If he loves her enough to put a child in her, why doesn't he leave me?"

Erik turned away from her and walked toward the house, pulling her along. As the information Christine had been told sunk in, she began to shake. Erik turned to her, alarmed, as her knees buckled. He caught her before she hit the ground and carried her inside, taking her to the kitchen. He poured her a glass of water and she drank it slowly. When she finished, she reached out a hand for Erik, pulling him to her and pressing her lips to his again. He reached for the glass in her hand and set it down before hoisting her onto the table. She gasped when his lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear that only he knew of.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered. Kissing down her neck, he glanced at her. "Where's Eva?"

"Paris," Christine gasped.

Pushing up her skirt, Erik kissed her hard again on the lips. "I love you," he moaned as he slid into her.

It was over almost as quickly as it had begun, and Christine felt fully satisfied for the first time in over a month. She smiled up at him. "Thank you," she whispered, pressing his forehead to her lips.

"For what?"

"For that." She smiled. "You're amazing." Looking down at herself, she laughed. "Can you imagine if _they_ decided to come back early?"

That rich laugh again. "We should take our business elsewhere."

"Upstairs?"

He looked suddenly thoughtful. "What about the library?"

"She has a library?"

"Yes." He kissed her forehead as he lifted her up. "With a fireplace."

By the time dark had fallen, Christine was lying on her back in front of a roaring fire while Erik jotted notes next to her. She had been dozing for some time and now opened her eyes, rolling on her stomach to look at him. "What are you writing?" she asked.

"Music," he said simply.

Christine rolled onto her back again. "What kind of music?"

He smiled at her. "It's for your range," he said.

Bursting into a brilliant smile, she leaned over to kiss him. "I—" She paused, then smiled. "I love you." She'd never said that before.

He smiled again and kissed her before she fell asleep. She awoke the next morning with Erik next to her again, their fingers twined together, and an odd feeling of nausea in her stomach. Something compelled her to run to the washroom, and she vomited into the toilet. Sitting up, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, confused. What was wrong? She hadn't eaten anything she shouldn't have. Perhaps it was just...

But no. She realized with a jolt that her menstrual cycle had never come. She was supposed to be on it— just finishing, actually. Instead, she was throwing up. A terrible thought came to her head. Could she...

She couldn't be. It was only the talk of Sonia getting to her. But still...

What if she was pregnant?

It would not be Raoul's. He made sure to use French letters to stop conception, saying he did not want children yet. There had been more than one occasion when, in a moment of heated passion like the one last night, she and Erik had forgotten to use them.

The bile that rose in her throat at that moment seemed to be the answer to all her questions.

_a/n__ Again, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to upset anyone, and I think I may have. I'll keep trying to pump this stuff out, but I do have English homework. Love you all soooooo much!_


	10. Chapter 9

_a/n This took a little longer to get up than I would have liked. I saved it as the wrong type of file, so I completely had to re-write this chapter. I think that's good, though, because it kind of sucked before._

_The next chapter or two will move a bit quickly, because it's going to take place over several months. Peace out, and congrats to DarkestDreams on finally finishing _When Fate is Denied_. If you haven't read it, head over and check it out—it's an amazing piece of work. If you're wondering where the title for this chapter came from, it's okay. If you know, the I give you kudos—you can actually understand Carlotta._

**CHAPTER 9—MY LOVE RETURNS IN SPLENDOUR**

Christine had never been as uncomfortable in her life as she was while Nadir administered a physical examination later that day to discern if she was indeed pregnant. Afraid to see her own doctor, as he would most definitely tell Raoul if she was pregnant, she had asked Eva what to do. Eva had suggested Nadir.

"He knows a great deal about medicine," she had said. "He can tell you if you're pregnant or not."

So she took Eva's advice and was lying on her back with Nadir poking and prodding about her privates. After a minute, he placed his hands on her knees. "You can put them down now," he said. "I'm sorry if that was uncomfortable for you."

Christine smiled weakly. "So?" she asked.

"So." Nadir sat down on the end of the bed. "Unless I am very much mistaken, you are approximately one month pregnant."

With a small sob, Christine slumped back on the bed. Nadir reached out for her hand, squeezing gently. "Everything will be fine, Christine," he said soothingly. "Soon your husband will be gone. By the time he leaves, you should be only just beginning to show. With as much as you'll be eating, he'll only think you to be gaining weight."

There was a knock on the door and Erik entered. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed Christine lying on the bed with a sheet draped over her legs, Nadir clutching her hand. Nadir laughed at the look on his friend's face. "It is not what it seems, my friend," he said. "Christine…" He trailed off, and then looked at her. "You should tell him." And with a last encouraging smile, he left.

Erik watched him go, and then looked back at Christine. "What is it?"

She reached out a hand to him, and he came to her. Sitting beside her, he stroked back her hair. "Christine?"

Taking a deep breath, she said softly, "I'm pregnant."

Erik's eyes widened. "You're—" He looked away from her for a moment, then back. "It isn't his?"

"It can't be. He makes sure that I don't get pregnant." She tightened her grip on his hand, feeling tears in her eyes. "I know he'll be gone soon, but… Erik, I'm so scared."

As she looked into his eyes, she felt more loved and treasured than she ever had in her life. His warm arms wrapped around her, and she felt so safe and cared for that she wept. She clutched his arm, sobbing. "I love you so much," she whispered.

He pulled her up to cradle her in his arms, rocking her back and forth. "Everything will be fine, my love," he said gently. "You'll see. Everything's going to be fine. He'll never have to know. When you have the child, I will keep it safe and watch over it when you aren't with me. We'll love our child, Christine." He kissed her forehead as she cried. "We'll love each other."

"I'm going to leave him," she sobbed. "I don't want to be married to him anymore, Erik. I don't want to be his wife anymore…"

She was lost inside herself, then, as he held her to him. He whispered words of comfort that she did not hear, but that somehow calmed her. As her tears subsided and she resurfaced to the world he was in, she looked up into his beautiful eyes and prayed that their child would look like him.

* * *

In the months that followed Christine was upset by the fact that Raoul was the most wonderful husband he had ever been during the entire time they had been married. The only thing that kept her from telling him about her pregnancy was a letter she had found in his desk that had been sent to him by Sonia Moretti. Her fears were confirmed—Sonia was in fact pregnant with Raoul's child, and he had not said a word about it to her. He was lying—he seemed the perfect husband, but he was every bit as unfaithful as she was.

The night before he was to leave, Christine sat across from him at the dinner table. He was staring up at her, and she looked up to smile at him. "What?" she asked, laughing nervously.

"Is there anything you want to tell me, Christine?" he asked.

It was all over his face—he knew. Terror filled her for a moment, but then she remembered that she had something to bargain with. "No," she said. "There's nothing I want to tell you. Why? Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

He looked at her for a moment before returning to his dinner. After a moment she said, "Oh, there is something." She set down her fork and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before saying, "Eva and Nadir are going to leave to travel Europe and Russia in a week. I'm going with them."

Raoul looked back up at her. "When did we decide this?" he asked.

"_We_ didn't decide this, Raoul," she said. "I did. On my own. You're not going to be here, and I'm sure you don't want me in Vienna to interfere with _business_, so I'm going with Eva and Nadir." She glared daggers at him from across the table, silently daring him to stop her from going.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then he nodded. "Do what you will. Just be careful."

That night they lay in bed, neither of them speaking. Under normal circumstances, they might have made love then fallen into a blissful sleep. Tonight, each knew that the other knew about their infidelity. After a while, she spoke.

"When are you getting back?" she asked.

"Six months."

"Will you write to me?"

"Yes."

Christine did not know why she was crying. The words slipped out of her mouth, unbidden. "I know everything, Raoul."

He did not answer. He had already fallen asleep. The tears came hard now. She was finding that she did not want to be here when he awoke the next morning. She rose from the bed and dressed quickly, scrawling a note as she did so.

_Dear Raoul,_

_I have decided to leave early. It will be hard enough to see you go in the morning, so I hope you will forgive me for leaving now. I want you to know that, whatever happens, I love you. Be safe. Write to me often. I shall miss you._

_Love always,  
__your__ darling Christine_

She hoped he would understand just as much as she prayed that he would forgive her. She called for her maid to help her carry the bags she had already packed downstairs and load them into the carriage.

An hour later, she was standing in front of Eva's, praying someone would wake to let her in. After about ten minutes, Corinne, the maid, opened the door, looking puffy-eyed and slightly cross. Christine smiled apologetically. "Is anyone still awake?" she asked.

"I believe Count Dusek is still awake, ma'am," Corinne said sleepily. "He hasn't been sleeping well the past few days."

Christine left her bags at the door to be brought up later and headed toward Erik's room. She snuck the door open and poked her head in. He was sitting at his desk, hunched over a sheet of manuscript paper, quill scratching as he wrote furiously. Creeping up behind him, she slid her arms over his shoulders and down his torso, kissing his neck. He jumped slightly, but smiled when he realized that it was her.

"What happened to coming tomorrow?"

"I don't want to see him right now," Christine said softly. "I think he knows. Not that I'm pregnant, and not that I'm with you, but I think he knows I'm being unfaithful to him. I don't know how, but…" She straightened up. "Would you mind terribly if I slept in here?"

"No," said Erik, reaching for her hand before she could pull it away. "I sleep better when you're with me."

Christine smiled and reached into his closet for something to wear to bed. She pulled out one of his dress shirts and put it on quietly as not to disturb him from his writing. Collapsing on the bed, she looked at him for a long moment before asking something that had been nagging her for some time.

"Why do you always wear your mask, Erik?" When he turned a confused gaze on her, she said, "It doesn't bother me. I love your face."

At this, his one perfect, sculpted eyebrow went up. "Really."

"Yes!" She got up on her knees and crawled to the end of the bed. "No one else in the _world_ has your face, Erik." She hopped down and went over to kiss him. She gently peeled the white porcelain from his face, cupping his cheek when he tried to turn away from her, wincing. "I love you, Erik," she whispered. "I love everything about you. I love your voice, your soul, your eyes, your face… Everything."

Instead of commenting on this, he turned his gaze to her attire. "Isn't that my shirt?" He tugged at the bottom of the white dress shirt. "It looks better on you."

She giggled and kissed him again, and he rested a hand on her stomach as he kissed her back. Suddenly he pulled away. "What was that?"

Frowning, Christine looked at him oddly. "What was what?"

"That." He took her hand and placed it on her stomach. For a moment, she thought he was crazy, then she felt it, too—a tiny flutter against her palm.

"Oh, my God," she whispered. "I think—Erik, I think it's the baby. It's kicking me."

"Kicking?" He carried her to the bed and lay down next to her, putting his head to her stomach. He smiled. "That's mine," he said quietly. "I did that. I put that there, Christine." Running his hand over her again, he looked up at her. "Do you know what? I think I'm going to like being a father."

And for some odd reason, she began to giggle. She giggled, and giggled, and giggled until she was breathless. Erik had by then crawled up beside her to rest his chin on her head. Snuggling into his warm arms, Christine inhaled the scent that was Erik, tracing her fingers over the buttons of his vest. "You know what else I love about you?" she asked somewhat randomly.

"What?"

"Your clothes." She giggled again. "The first time I saw you I thought you looked so handsome, all dressed to the nines in your fancy vest and cravat and the jacket and the pants." Another giggle. "I like the way your pants fit."

There was a moment of silence, and then Erik burst out laughing. "In my entire life, I've never had someone compliment me on the way my pants fit." He shook his head, still laughing, and rose up to change for bed. Christine burrowed underneath the covers and peered over the edge of the comforter at him as he undressed. He tossed his jacket onto a chair, removed his cravat, and unbuttoned his vest. Reaching for a hanger, he draped the vest over it. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he seemed to sense her gaze and turned to look at her. "Are you alright?"

Christine nodded. "I love you," she said in a muffled voice. She held out her arms. "Come here and I'll finish undressing you."

"Not tonight," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "It's late and you need your rest."

She pouted. "Will you at least sing to me?"

He appeared to be thinking for a moment, but a wicked grin soon crossed his face.

"No more talk  
of darkness,  
Forget these  
wide-eyed fears.  
I'm here,  
nothing can harm you -  
my words will  
warm and calm you.  
Let me be  
your freedom,  
let daylight  
dry -your tears.  
I'm here,  
with you, beside you,  
to guard you  
and to guide you."

As she drifted off, Christine sang softly with him.

"Say you love me  
every  
waking moment,  
turn my head  
with talk of summertime . . .  
Say you need me  
with you,  
now and always . . .  
promise me that all  
you say is true -  
that's all I ask  
of you."

When she opened her eyes, the room was dark and Erik was next to her, cradling her head on his chest. She looked up at him. His eyes were closed. She remembered Corinne saying that he had not been sleeping well and how he had told her that he slept better with her in the bed. A small smile crossed her face and she leaned up to kiss his lips gently before drifting back off.

_a/n Whew! I almost forgot to do my English, but I got 'er done! I have no idea when the next chapter will be out, but there's an extended weekend coming up. Hopefully I can do a chapter or two then. Love you all! Leave me reviews! XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO_


	11. Chapter 10

_a/n Sorry this took its time getting up—my boyfriend and I got into a really bad fight. Right now, I'm going on five hours of really shitty sleep and catching a cold, so forgive typos and plot holes._

**CHAPTER 10—FATHERING GAZE**

As her ninth month of pregnancy was coming to a close, Christine did not care if she never got pregnant again. She felt horrible. Her back ached beyond all reason, her feet were too swollen to fit into her shoes, and she had never been so cranky. At one point, she threw a plate at Erik, which barely missed his head. He had crouched under the table for about five minutes while she ranted, only to emerge laughing.

"What's so funny?" she had demanded.

He had only been able to shake his head, as his laughter did not allow for speech. She soon joined him, and they clung together, laughing raucously.

Now, Christine was leaning back on the edge of the bed, trying to see her feet. She looked over at Erik, sitting at his desk, and asked, "Can you see my feet?"

"Yes, dear," he said, not looking up.

"Erik!"

He jumped. "What?"

"Can you see my feet?"

Giving a glance toward the ends of her legs, he nodded. "Yes, and I also see that your slippers don't match."

Christine moved from side to side, trying to see. "I did?"

"Yes, you did." Erik rose from his desk, stepping over to remove her slippers. "See?" He held them up for her to view. One was gold, one was black. "Which pair do you want?"

"Neither." She leaned all the way back so that she was lying down with her feet dangling off the edge. "I hate shoes."

Tossing the slippers into the closet, Erik lay on his side next to her, stroking her hair away from her forehead. "How are you feeling today?"

Christine reached up for his hand. "I'm tired," she said. "I can't wait for this baby to be born. I don't even remember what my feet look like."

"What did Nadir say?"

"Any day now." She sighed heavily. "Are you ready?"

Erik kissed her forehead. "Yes."

Several months before, they had finalized their decision to send the baby with Erik when Raoul came home. A month after Raoul returned, Erik would return to Vienna for about six months before coming back to stay with Eva more permanently. Christine would use those six months to make a decision about whether or not she wanted to stay with Raoul. Her initial decision to leave Raoul was met with the thought that she could not simply ask for a divorce. She needed to speak with him first.

Erik had hired a nanny to help him care for the child. He had also paid a friend in Vienna to baby-proof the house, getting rid of smaller objects that could be hazardous to a small child. As nervous as he was, Christine knew he was excited. Every time the baby kicked against his palm, a look of wonder would cross his face, and Christine thought he was more beautiful in those moments than in any of the others that they had shared. He also seemed to be more and more anxious for the baby to be born as each week passed.

A sharp pain from deep inside her belly jerked Christine from her reverie. She inhaled harshly and brought a hand to her belly. Pains had become routine for her in the past week, which Nadir said indicated that she was getting closer to the birth. She shifted around, however, and realized that she bed beneath her was damp. Another pain made her groan, and she reached for Erik, who was falling asleep beside her.

"Erik," she gasped. "I think I'm going into labor."

"Now?" he asked, shocked.

"No, next week," she hissed as another pain struck her. "Yes, now!"

Erik called for Nadir before maneuvering Christine into a more comfortable position on the bed. He smiled weakly at her. "Are you ready?

Christine shook her head frantically. "No!" She reached down for his hand. "Erik, I'm so scared!"

"It's alright, love," he murmured as Nadir rushed in, followed by Eva and Corinne. "Everything is going to be fine."

* * *

Erik had never been so exhausted in his life. It was not from lack of sleep, but from the emotional toll that the last sixteen hours had taken from him. He had never been so happy.

As the final push had come and Christine had screamed so loudly that Erik was sure that she would rip her vocal cords, he heard the most amazing sound he had ever heard in his life.

Crying.

As the baby came into the world, it announced its presence with a scream to match the one its mother had just omitted. Christine had leaned up, trying to see the child. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

Erik leaned over to look into Eva's arms. A grin split his face as he looked at Christine. "It's a boy, Christine," he said. "We have a son."

Now, two hours later, Christine was sleeping soundly in the bed while Erik held his son to him. The infant boy's tiny fingers and toes were a source of amazement to Erik, who could not believe anything could be so small and perfect. He leaned down to kiss his son's forehead, then moved to sit next to Christine. He gently nudged her awake, and her brown eyes opened to look up at him. She smiled when she saw him holding their son, and she reached a hand up to caress Erik's left cheek.

"He still needs a name," she whispered.

Erik nodded. "What do you wish to call him?"

"I always wanted to name my son after my father," she said. "Would that be alright?"

"'Gustave' it is, then."

"Gustave Erik Dussek."

Smiling at the middle name she had claimed for the boy, Erik leaned down to kiss her. "Gustave Erik Dussek," he said, smiling. "A handsome name for a handsome lad." The tiny eyes opened and the tiny mouth opened and closed for a moment before Gustave began to cry. Erik laughed. "I think he's hungry."

"Oh!" Christine smiled nervously. "I don't know if I can do this without Eva."

"Yes you can," Erik said, handing Gustave to Christine when she had slid her nightgown down. "Take him."

Christine bit her lip as she cradled Gustave to her breast. He immediately quieted down and began to suck milk from Christine. She smiled down at him. "Hello, Gustave," she said. Looking back up at Erik, she managed a sad smile. "How will I live without him? How will I live without you?"

"You will go day to day," Erik said gently, "and we will return before you know it."

"I hope so," she whispered. "I truly hope so."

_a/n Really crappy chapter, like I said. I've gotten sicker as I've written this (its taken me a couple of days) and things aren't getting any better in any aspect of my life right now, health or romantically. Please excuse me if things come up late–I don't really know what's going to happen with me this next week. I love you all!_


	12. Chapter 11

_a/n I just got dumped, and I feel the urge to write until the Nyquil kicks in. Bear with me as things start to get messy. Thanks to everyone who reviewed within the first five minutes—you guys never cease to amaze me!_

**CHAPTER 11—IT'S OVER NOW**

Raoul was different when he arrived home. He had never been as preoccupied as this after any visit to Vienna, and Christine was a bit frightened when he began to tear around the house after midnight. She clenched her eyes shut, first against the slamming of doors and furniture, then against his terrible sobbing. Praying that he would not hear, she too sobbed.

Erik had left two weeks before with Gustave and her heart had ripped in two. As she had waved goodbye to her lover and her son, she knew it would not take much to make up her mind about the situation with Raoul. What she worried about instead was what she would say to him. Would she tell him the truth? Or should she simply lie, and say that she did not love him anymore?

She _did_ love him, just not the way she did when they had been married.

The door opened and closed again, softly, and she knew he was in the room again. He was still sniffing, and she worked to stifle her crying. She needn't have.

"It's alright, Christine," he said quietly. "I heard you crying."

He sat down on his side of the bed, not moving to remove his clothes or lay next to her. She sat up, looking at his face, reflected in the dim light from the candle that she had left burning. It frightened her to see him look so hollow. He stared away, out the window, for a long time before he spoke.

"How long?"

Christine blinked. "What?"

"How long has it been since you bedded… whoever?"

"You don't know?" This was new information to her. She had honestly thought he had known this.

"No." He sighed and turned to look at her. "I don't know how long, who, or even for sure that you were doing anything. I just… felt it."

Looking at her hands, Christine searched for an answer. "I—" She couldn't tell him the truth—it would kill him. "You were away on business."

"I'm gone a lot," he said dully. "You felt… strange… the first time we made love. Was it before then?"

Her eyes squeezed shut so that she would not have to see his face. "Yes."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

He made no reply. She opened her eyes. He had turned to look at her with a mix of shock, disgust, and… relief? She smiled at him and reached for his hand. "I know about Sonia."

At this, his eyebrows raised. "Dare I ask how you know that is was Sonia?"

"He found out for me."

"He?" Raoul leaned back to look at her more closely. "Who is he, Christine?"

She raised her eyebrows. When he still stared, she smiled. "Don Juan triumphed."

Raoul looked confused for a moment before a thunderstruck look passed over his face. For a moment, she was afraid of him, but the look was gone as quickly as it had appeared as he began to laugh. "Well," he said, "at least I can be sure you will be well looked after."

Christine frowned. "What do you mean?"

Raoul gave a small laugh. "You don't really want to be married anymore. I see it in your eyes every time we're making love. You'd rather be with him." Reaching for her hand, Raoul smiled at her. "I know I'd rather be with Sonia and…" He paused, then looked into her face. "Isabella."

"Isabella?" For a moment, Christine was confused again, but then realization came over her. "Your daughter," she whispered.

Raoul nodded. He squeezed her hand. "I'm in love with two women, Christine," he said softly. "But I will always love you and value your friendship."

"I know," she said. "And _I_ will always love _you_, and value _your_ friendship."

He pulled her into his arms in an embrace that was such a relief that Christine thought she might start crying again. Another thought came to her, and she pulled back to look at him. "What will your mother say?"

He shrugged. "I don't care."

She grinned and hugged him again.

* * *

Never before had something so beautiful been created on God's green earth. Little Gustave was going on five months now and developing well. It was apparent that he was going to look more like Erik than Christine. He had his father's beautiful eyes, his nose, and it looked as if he would have Erik's ears, as well. His hair, though, had to have come from Christine. As it grew in, it was remarkably curly and dark.

Gustave always seemed to recognize his father and reached his arms out to be held when Erik entered his room. His interest in his toes was surpassing Erik's, and he was already crawling short distances, something the nurse said was advanced for his age. Erik was amused when the boy tried to imitate the sounds emanating from the piano one night—Gustave seemed to love the piano. He would sit on Erik's lap, bang on the keys, then look up at his father before pressing the keys again.

Tonight, Erik let Gustave roll around his play pen as he played the piano. As he ran through "Spanish Dance" by Grandaos, Gustave clapped his hands, squealing with delight as Erik pounded through the middle theme. As the music became slow and romantic, Gustave cooed and held out his arms. Erik stopped for a moment to take his son in his arms, then returned to the piano with the child in his lap. He was just getting back to the allegro theme when there was a knock at the door. Frowning, Erik looked at the clock—it was after eight. The few people who called usually came before dinner.

Erik stood up and crossed the room to the door, holding Gustave in one arm, and opened the door to find Christine standing with a tremendous look on her face.

She dropped the bags she was holding to throw her arms around Erik. Still reeling from shock, he hugged her back. Pulling his head down, she kissed him, and he knew he could not possibly be dreaming. He kissed her back, holding her more tightly, and may not have stopped if not for the small hands that flailed against his cheek.

"Oh, darling!" Christine squealed. She held her arms out, and Erik handed their son down to her. She smiled brightly and bounced him on her hip. He screamed with delight and Christine laughed. "You're getting so big!" She looked up at Erik. "How did he grow so fast?" Beaming, she walked inside, turning to look at him. "It's good to see that he's still alive after all these months."

Erik laughed and caressed her cheek. "What are you doing here?"

If it was possible, the smile on her face got even wider. "I am officially a divorced woman, and an extremely scandalous one, according to Raoul's mother." She laughed and spun around, which made Gustave squeal again. Christine kissed his chubby cheek and looked back at Erik. "There was nothing bitter about it—he even brought me to Vienna."

"Really."

"Really! He wanted to see Sonia and—" She smirked. "Baby Isabella."

Laughing again, Erik pulled her into his arms once more. "I love you," he said.

She kissed him again.

* * *

Five hours later, Christine collapsed onto her back for the third time that night, still shaking with pleasure. Erik rolled over to kiss her neck, and she smiled, running her fingers through his hair. "I love you," she breathed when she finally found her voice.

He murmured the same against her neck, then moved to kiss her collarbone. "You're the most amazing woman," he whispered.

She smiled. "Am I amazing enough that you'd still want to marry me?"

Erik laughed. "You will _always_ be amazing enough."

_a/n Okay, there's going to be a cute little epilogue, then it's done. Can you guys believe it? I'm actually going to finish a story! Wow! I love you guys—you keep me so very motivated. I LOVE YOU! XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO!_


	13. Epilogue

_a/n Here's the end! Tell me if I dare do a sequel or not—I will admit, I'm a bit tempted. Love you all!_

**EPILOGUE**

"I'm not going back there." The little girl shook her head furiously. "You can't make me."

"Dad can." Heaving a sigh as the six year old clung to his pant leg, staring up with pleading brown eyes, the young man found he was powerless. "Fine," he muttered. "You can come today, but that's all." As the girl squealed with delight, he quickly added, "We're not making a habit out of it. Mother would kill me."

"Shoulders!"

Laughing, he swooped his sister up onto his shoulders. "You can't make a habit of this, either, Angelique."

"I promise, Gustave."

As they walked the chilly streets of Vienna, Angelique chatted about how much she hated her school, wishing she could spend all day with Gustave and Jean as they worked. "You all have much more fun than I."

"Not true," Gustave said, swinging in the door and lifting his sister up, then down to the floor. "Mathieu and Tristan go to school every day, and they don't complain."

"That's because they're boys. Eve doesn't have to go to school."

"Eve's a baby." Gustave paused at the entrance to the auditorium, kneeling in front of Angelique. "You have to be quiet," he said. "If you interrupt anything with your loud voice, it's right back to school with you."

Jean passed just then with an arm full of costumes, stopping long enough to roll his eyes and say, "Can't resist her baby face, can you?"

"Shut it," Gustave said, taking a good-natured swipe the older boy. "Neither can you. If I remember, you were the one giving her candies during the Mass on Sunday."

"Guilty as charged." Jean shifted his load to reach down and tousle Angelique's messy curls, so like her brother's. "Keep quiet, _bel__ ange_."

Angelique beamed at the pet name her father had given her so many years ago. Grabbing her hand, Gustave quietly led her into the grand auditorium. He raised a finger to his lips as a woman exited the stage, looking cross. He could hear his parents talking.

"Really, darling, she wasn't all that bad—"

"I'm not having that woman take over for you." His father's voice was muffled through the newspaper that he had rested over his face, a common gesture of exasperation. Their mother always joked that he was making faces and muttering curses under there. "Were you even listening? I want her to make angels weep, not my children."

Gustave was not able to entirely stifle the laugh that broke from his lips. The woman in the row in front of them turned. Frowning, she said, "Why isn't Angelique at school?"

"I don't want to, mother," she said, pouting.

Frowning at this, she turned to her husband for support. "Erik, talk to your children."

"Take your sister back to school." The paper did not even move.

Christine Dusek reached out a hand to catch Angelique as she tumbled over the seat next to her mother to sit beside her. "Please, mama, I hate my school. The teacher is mean to me."

Exasperated, Christine shook her head. Not to be defeated, Angelique climbed across her mother's feet to tug at her father's pant leg. "Papa, don't make me go back to school."

A weary sigh came from under the paper. Count Dusek peered down at his daughter from under the newspaper. This proved to be an unwise move, as the pleading brown eyes that so seldom failed her gazed up at her father. "Do you promise to be quiet?"

"Erik!"

"Oh, yes, Papa!" Angelique climbed into Erik's lap, lifting the paper to kiss his left cheek. "Thank you, Papa!"

"Shush," he said, but he smiled. Looking over, he gave his wife an exasperated look. "The eyes, Christine! No one can resist the eyes of my _bel__ ange_."

Christine raised her eyes to the ceiling, muttering what could only be a prayer under her breath, and gestured to the stage. "Call the next victim."

"_Next!_"

"Still no luck finding Mother's replacement?" Gustave asked, sitting down next to his father.

Instead of an answer, Erik simply put the newspaper back over his face. The next "victim" turned out to be a voluptuous woman in her forties who sang high pitches so tightly that Gustave cringed. The next four women were equally bad, and Gustave found himself becoming bored.

Just as he was about to go find Jean to find something more entertaining to do, a curvy blonde walked on the stage. If nothing else, Gustave decided, she'd be something to look at.

"Name," said Erik unenthusiastically.

"Bella," she said tentatively. She looked petrified. A good sign, Gustave thought. The last few women had looked overbearingly pompous and confident. This girl looked ready to faint.

"Bella," said Christine kindly, "what are you going to perform for us today?"

"'The Last Rose of Summer,'" she said nervously.

"God," Erik muttered. "This will either be fantastic or fantastically horrible."

"Erik!" Christine hissed.

The girl nodded to the pianist, who played a short introduction before she opened her mouth and began to sing. Gustave had been slumped in his seat, half asleep, but when Bella opened her mouth and began to sing, he sat up and paid attention. Christine stopped writing in her notebook to watch her, entranced, and even Erik took down his newspaper to stare at the girl in wonder. She could not possibly be any older than Gustave, but she sounded as if she had trained for twice as many years as she had lived.

By the time she finished, everyone in the theater had stopped what they were doing to listen to Bella sing. She stood for a moment, looking about nervously, then gave a small curtsey, said, "Thank you for your time, Count Dussek, Countess Dussek," and began to walk from the stage, head bowed.

Erik jumped to his feet. "Don't move!" he shouted at her.

She jumped. Erik did not move toward her—he stood with a hand outstretched for a moment before he asked, "How old are you?"

"I'll be seventeen in a few months, sir," she said.

"Sixteen," he whispered. He looked back at his wife in amazement. "Christine…"

"Erik, if you don't hire her, I won't touch you for the rest of the week," she said in one breath.

He laughed. "Do I look like a fool?" Turning back to Bella, he gestured her over. When she stood before them, Erik smiled at her. "Do you have any family, Bella?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "It was my father who sent me here. I've always wanted to be on the stage, but my grandmother did not like the idea." She smiled for the first time since entering the room. "He said that I am old enough to make my own decisions and that he would support me fully if I chose to take to the stage. So here I am."

"I see," he said slowly. He looked at Christine, who was staring at Bella with a furrowed brow. "Is it Isabella?" she asked.

"Yes," she said, giving a small curtsey. "Isabella de Chagny."

Erik and Christine looked at each other again, and suddenly, Christine began to giggle. "It's little Bella," she managed to say.

"Isabella," Erik said, "I would like to welcome you to the Vienna Opera."

She smiled brilliantly.

Six weeks later, she was still smiling, only now to thunderous applause as the lead in _Alina__regina__ di Golco_. As she came off the stage, she was rushed by her fellow actors and the ballet, all of whom were dying to congratulate her. Dropping down from his perch overlooking the stage, Gustave rushed toward her.

"Come on, Bella," he said, grabbing her hand. He pulled her toward her dressing room and shepherded her inside. When he finally managed to shut the door, he leaned against it, grinning. "You!" He pointed at his friend, and she laughed.

"How did I do?"

"Fantastic!" He swept her up in his arms and spun her around. She was beaming up at him, her face flushed.

"Was I really?"

He felt the smile slowly fade from his face as he looked into her brown eyes. "Yes," he said softly. "You're always beautiful."

She giggled.

"Good! I—I meant good. You're always good. You've never missed a—"

But then his stuttering was silenced by a pair of soft lips and two arms wrapping around his waist. Had he not been so preoccupied with her, Gustave may have noticed the side door to the dressing room open, and his parents nearly fall over each other in an attempt not to interrupt. Pushing her husband out, Christine just managed to stifle a laugh.

"He'd never forgive us if he found out we knew," she said, giggling.

Erik pulled her up against his chest. "Wouldn't he."

"No." She smiled as he tilted her chin up and kissed her deeply. When he pulled away, she was still smiling. "We should go see to Eve. She's probably driving Eva up the wall."

"Oh, you know Eva loves her." Erik kissed her forehead. "She loves having someone named for her."

"The boys?"

"With Jean." He was moving down her neck now.

"Erik, not here," she murmured. "We're behaving like common theater folk."

"I have news for you, my darling," he said, pulling her into an unused dressing room. "We are theater folk."

And he locked the door.

_a/n That's the end! That's the whole kit 'n' caboodle. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did—now I just have to decide if I want to do the sequel. If I do, it'll be a bit—I need a break. I don't normally write this fast! I adore you all!_


End file.
